


Nothing the Same

by orchidluv



Series: Nothing the Same [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-20 09:10:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 154,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4781801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orchidluv/pseuds/orchidluv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU.  Xander doesn't deal well with Jesse's death.  Guilt-ridden over killing his friend, he can't accept what Giles and Buffy are telling him, that nothing of his friend remained in the vampire.  He drifts away from Willow feeling betrayed that she has just forgotten Jesse.  They others think he's gone off the deep end, especially when it looks like he's becoming friends with Spike.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A re-working of the entire series. Xander doesn't become one of the Scoobies and everything changes as a result. Bits of dialog borrowed from various episodes.

Prologue

He’d finished filling in the small hole and was carefully folding the sod back over it when he was interrupted.

“Isn’t that sweet?” The intruding voice dripped with sarcasm. “Just when I was thinking about breakfast.”

Xander stood up quickly and turned to face the speaker, wiping his hands on the back of his jeans and surreptitiously checking that the stake and cross he'd begun carrying everywhere with him hadn’t dropped out. Except for the fangs, yellow eyes and bumpy forehead, the vampire who’d spoken looked like one of the frat boys who sometimes hung out at the Bronze - a little older and better dressed than the high school crowd, dark hair styled in a way Xander could only dream of. Perfect.

“What’s it like to be a vampire?” Xander asked sincerely, casually edging towards the shovel he’d left resting against the bench. Just in case.

Astonishment looked weird on a vampire’s face. “What’s it like?” 

“Yeah. You know, what do you do when you’re not actually killing people? I mean, do you hang out with other vampires, watch movies, or do you do demony things that humans don’t know about?

“This isn’t a date, moron. We don’t do small talk before I eat you.”

Xander rolled his eyes. “Please, do I look like I dressed for a date? Believe me, you are so not my type. I just want to know what vampires are like. So,” he gestured hopefully, “anything you feel like sharing is good.”

“What are you - some kind of freaky Oprah fan?”

“Nah, hate daytime talk shows. Give me a good sci-fi show or something with explosions any day.”

“Well, explosions yeah, but not that geeky sci-fi crap. Oh, god, you’re a Trekkie, aren’t you? I should eat you just for that.”

“Not me, Aliens and Babylon 5 are more my thing. So, you watch tv a lot?” Xander brought the conversation back to the vampire.

“Well,” the vampire said defensively, “sometimes. The days get long cooped up inside, waiting for sunset.” 

“I can imagine,” Xander agreed sympathetically. “So, do you have friends among the other vampires?”

“And again with the encounter group. You know, I’ve changed my mind. You are too weird to eat. I’m gonna find someone who’ll scream and try to run like a proper meal. I don’t like a lot of talking while I feed.”

Xander watched in disbelief as the vampire moved off, shaking his head and muttering about how weird humans were getting these days. “Hey!” he yelled at the retreating back, feeling vaguely insulted. He sighed and leaned down to pick up his shovel, “I don’t want to hear it,” he muttered to the small grave. “You sure were willing to talk about what it’s like - ‘worms in the earth’, man? Way to sell people on how good it is.” 

He hesitated, almost as if he thought there’d be an answer, then shook his head sharply, dispelling the idea. “See you, man,” he said quietly and winced at the silence that was the only response. “Later, dude,” he whispered Jesse’s signature farewell to himself and walked away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	2. Chapter 2

Xander heard the phone ring and his father swearing loudly. He opened his door a crack and listened, hearing his father yelling into the phone: “How the hell should I know where that stupid kid is?” before slamming down the handset. 

He waited until his father’s heavy tread passed by and he heard the door to his parents’ room close, then he slipped out to the kitchen. Without turning on the light, he dialed Jesse’s number, not surprised when the phone was picked up on the first ring and an anxious voice answered. He kept his own voice low so his father wouldn’t hear. “Mrs. McNally? It’s Xander, sorry about my dad.” 

“Xander, have you seen Jesse? He hasn’t come home yet.”

He was able to answer calmly because he’d been practicing, expecting this call. “We missed each other at the Bronze tonight, I got there after he left. Someone said they’d seen him leave with a girl.” It was all true, which helped, but he hated lying to her. On the other hand, if Jesse was ok, then Jesse could deal with his mom grounding him when they got him back. Telling Mrs. McNally that Jesse was missing and last seen with vampires wouldn’t go over well. Better for her to think Jesse was sleeping with some ‘ho than to try and explain what was really going on. Especially when Xander wasn’t sure he believed it himself.

“What girl?”

“I don’t know, Mrs. McNally. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, Xander. Go back to bed before you get in trouble with your parents. If you see Jesse before I do, tell him he’ll be lucky if he’s allowed out of this house by the time he graduates. And tell him to call me immediately.”

“I will. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Xander. Thank you for calling.”

Xander set the phone down quietly, hoping he’d done the right thing and headed for bed. First thing tomorrow, he was getting a whole lot more information about what the hell was going on. Then he was going to find Jesse and…and actually, that was probably enough for a school day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
It had proved to be more than enough. He’d followed Buffy down into the tunnels, despite everyone telling him not to. But he just couldn’t stay in school like it was a normal day when Jesse was in trouble. Sure, Buffy had promised to find him, and she seemed cool and all, but he didn’t know her at all hardly and she was asking him to take a lot of stuff on faith. Ok, yeah, he pretty much believed in vampires now and she seemed to know how to deal with them, but hey, how bad could it get?

That kind of thinking had gotten him where he was now. Yes, they’d found Jesse, but now they were trapped in a dead end and Xander was really starting to panic. “What do we do?” he asked desperately.

“I’ve got an idea, you can die.” Turning, Xander stared in disbelief at Jesse’s face. The bones had shifted and the familiar planes were altered until he could hardly recognize his best friend. He shook his head, denying the evidence of his eyes, this wasn’t happening. 

Too bad he was fast losing the ability to deny the evidence of his own eyes. “Jesse, man, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? I feel good, Xander. I feel strong. I’m connected, man, to everything.” Jesse’s voice was subtly different and his head tilted up slightly in an unfamiliar gesture. “I can hear the worms in the earth.”

“That’s a plus.”

“I know what the Master wants. I’ll serve his purpose. That means you die.” He moved closer. “And I feed.”

Xander wondered later if he would have just stood there and let Jesse kill him if Buffy hadn’t shouted at him to use the cross she’d given him. His hand moved without conscious thought in response to her shout, bringing the cross up between them, and Jesse stepped back slightly, flinching away from it. Xander couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from the changed features of the friend he knew better than he knew himself. “Jesse, man, we’re buds. Don’t you remember?”

“You’re like a shadow to me now.”

And then Jesse was gone, thrown from the room by Buffy, and they were scrambling through the ducts and out into the sunlight, leaving the tunnels, and Jesse, behind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Afterwards, Xander was grateful that they had to put all their energies into stopping the Harvest. It kept him from thinking, kept his body moving and doing. If there had been time to think, to let himself feel, he never would have made it through that night. 

So he’d found himself in the alley behind the Bronze, with Willow and Mr. Giles, trying to find a way inside. Vibrating with nervous tension, he wanted to get the librarian moving. “We have got to get in there now, before Jesse does something stupider than usual.”

“You listen to me.” Mr. Giles turned towards him, pointing a stern finger to emphasize his words. “Jesse is dead. You have to remember that, when you see him, you are not looking at your friend, you are looking at the thing that killed him.” He looked sternly at both Willow and Xander to ensure they were accepting what he’d just said.

Xander bit back a retort, knowing there wasn’t time for an argument. He needed to talk to Willow about Jesse. He wasn’t buying what Buffy and Mr. Giles were saying: that no trace of the human remained inside the vampire. Not after what he’d seen in the tunnels beneath the cemetery. He’d talk to Willow later. Right now, they had to stop the Harvest.

The familiar interior of The Bronze was a nightmare version of itself. People were screaming and running and Xander helped Willow and Mr. Giles get everyone moving towards the back door. All the while, his eyes were searching the shadows for Jesse. Finally, as the place began to empty out, he spotted Jesse near the dance floor. Jesse was pinning Cordelia down, bending over her threateningly and Xander ran towards him, dodging through the trickle of remaining people still trying to get out. He had to stop Jesse before he did something neither of them could live with.

“Jesse, man! Don’t make me do it!” Standing behind Jesse, Xander raised his stake threateningly.

Jesse turned his head to look over his shoulder at Xander without releasing his hold on Cordelia. Xander flinched as he saw the demonic features on his best friend. It was worse this time because Jesse was grinning at him, displaying a mouthful of fangs. “Buddy!” He leapt to his feet with a graceful strength alien to Jesse’s coltish, just post growth-spurt frame. Behind him, Xander was peripherally aware of Cordelia scrambling to her feet and running off through the chaotic darkness of the club. 

Xander was still holding the stake up warningly. “Jesse! I know there’s still a part of you in there,” he said desperately.

“Ok, let’s deal with this. Jesse was an excruciating loser who couldn’t get a date with anyone in the sighted community. Look at me! I’m a new man!”

Jesse’s hands flashed out, grabbing Xander’s coat and spinning them both around, shoving Xander up against a metal support beam. Xander raised the stake automatically and it came to rest against Jesse’s chest. Jesse just looked down at the wooden tip resting over his heart and grinned. “Ooh!” he said mockingly, then looked up into Xander’s eyes and smirking. “Gonna put me out of my misery?” It was obvious he wasn’t worried about Xander actually staking him.

Xander stared searchingly at the changed features. Despite the yellow eyes and brow ridges, Xander could still only see his best friend standing there. The feeling that it was still Jesse was so strong that he found he was waiting for Jesse to laugh and tell him what an idiot he was for believing in vampires, that it had all been an elaborate joke. For a long moment, they both just stared at each other, Xander seeing fifteen years of friendship. Seeing Jesse, who shared his love of science fiction and comics. Jesse, who let him climb in his window and sleep over when Xander’s parents got too drunk. Jesse, who traded mock insults with him, wrestled with him, laughed with him, who’d been there for him for as long as he could remember. 

You’re like a shadow to me now. Jesse leaned in closer, ignoring the stake, hands still fisted in Xander’s jacket, pinning him with a strength he’d never possessed before. “You don’t have the g-”. He jolted forward suddenly, shoved from behind and Xander didn’t have time to drop the stake. For an instant, Jesse looked completely shocked, then the shock, and his face, faded into dust.

The stake vanished with Jesse and Xander’s whole body began to shake. He leaned back against the pillar for support, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He kept his eyes firmly fixed on the far wall. No way was he going to look down and see what was left of his best friend.

His avoidant gaze was caught by the sight of Buffy posed aggressively on the stage. Moving on automatic pilot, he found himself joining Buffy, Willow and Mr. Giles at the base of the stage. He looked back towards where Jesse’s ashes lay, barely registering the quiet conversation among the other three. 

You’re like a shadow to me now. A shiver ran through him at the silent echo of Jesse’s words. “One thing’s for sure, nothing’s ever going to be the same,” he said, more to himself than to the others.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Buffy offered to walk Willow home and Xander nodded and set off towards his own house, lifting a hand in silent farewell. He could hear the two girls talking quietly, their voices fading as the distance grew. When he couldn’t hear them anymore, he ducked into the shadows outside the arc of brightness from the streetlights and looked back. Once he was sure they were out of sight, he changed direction abruptly, heading back towards the Bronze.

Getting back inside was easier than he’d feared, apparently neither fleeing employees nor saving-the-day heroes do a good job of locking up behind them. The back door was only closed, not locked, and it yielded easily to his pull. 

Stepping inside, he listened carefully for a long moment, his eyes scanning the dim interior for any movement. Finally, sure the place was empty, he walked slowly across the room to one particular small scattering of dust, stopping well outside the pattern and forced himself to look down at it this time.

Tears burned in his eyes and he dropped to his knees, one hand reaching out to touch. He stopped short of actually touching and his hand lingered in the air, ghosting over the dusty remains. You’re like a shadow to me now. Jesse’s words burned inside him and he snatched his hand back, bowing his head to his knees and let the grief take him.

It was the cold that finally penetrated and broke him out of his now silent mourning. His eyes were red and swollen and every muscle protested as he uncurled. Stiffly, he climbed to his feet and found a janitor’s closet, rummaging inside until he found a broom and dustpan and a small box that had once held some sort of cleaning supplies. Returning to the spot, he looked down one last time. “I’m sorry.” The quiet words sounded loud in the empty space. There was nothing else to say. 

It felt wrong to sweep up the remains of his best friend like litter from a walkway and renewed grief clutched at his heart and burned in his eyes. He bit his lip and refused to think about what he was doing, using the broom with short, slow strokes, trying to get every speck. He tipped Jesse’s remains into the box and cradled it to his chest, again fighting back tears.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The vase was short and round and dark blue. Jesse would have laughed himself sick at the sight of it. Or he would have if he hadn’t currently been residing in it. It was cheap looking and wrong, but at least it was better than a cardboard box marked “Industrial Strength Hand Cleaner”. It was hidden in the back of Xander’s closet in case his mom decided to do one of her infrequent cleanings of his room or his dad came looking for stuff to pawn.

It was just temporary, he told himself, until he could figure out what to tell Jesse’s mother. No way would she buy that Jesse’s body had been accidentally cremated and that he had somehow ended up with the ashes. And that was the best story he’d come up with so far. He really needed to talk to Willow about what to do, and that meant telling her what had happened at the Bronze.

Tomorrow, he decided. He’d have to go back to school, he couldn’t stretch being “sick” more than two days, and he had to figure out something to tell Jesse’s mother. He’d talked to her twice more and she was frantic. She was a nice lady and he hated lying to her and telling her he didn’t know anything but he didn’t know what else to do. He’d talk it over with Willow and they’d decide.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Jesse’s dead.” 

Despite all his practicing, the words still stuck in his throat, his chest so tight it was hard to breathe. He’d finally been able to find Willow alone, without Buffy around, and all she could talk about was cheerleading practice and Buffy trying out and how they should go watch and support her. In another life, he would have been all for watching cheerleaders do their thing, but right now, Willow’s interest in it felt like a slap in the face. He’d finally had to just come right out and say it.

Willow gave him a peculiar look and answered gently, “I know, Xander. You and Buffy told me when you got back from the tunnels.” She was blinking back tears as she spoke and Xander struggled to keep his own in check.

“No. I… He was killed at the Bronze.” He’d finally said it. It didn’t matter that the words came out in a choked whisper, he’d finally said it. Things had to get better now, didn’t they?

Willow looked, oh, god, she looked happy? “You mean, the vampire got staked at the Bronze? That’s a relief.”

“What!? How can you say that? He was our friend.”

“Jesse was our friend. The thing at the Bronze was a vampire. I’m glad it was staked. I don’t like the idea of a vampire walking around in Jesse’s body. It’s ookie.”

Xander was reeling. He’d practiced this conversation a hundred times and it had never gone this way. “It was still Jesse. He was in there. I could tell. When…when we found him in the tunnels, it was still Jesse.” How could he explain to her the instinctive recognition? Jesse had hugged him, had talked to him, and it was Jesse. There was a monster in there with him but his friend had still been there.

“Xander,” Willow was giving him her patient, you’ll-solve-the-equation-even-if-we-have-to-study-all-night look. “remember what Giles told us. It wasn’t Jesse, it was the demon that killed him. Jesse…” her voice faltered but she managed to finish. “Jesse died when he was turned into a vampire.”

“No.” Xander shook his head stubbornly. “Either Mr. Giles doesn’t know what he’s talking about or he’s lying. A demon animating a corpse, a..an empty shell, wouldn’t have the person’s memories, their mannerisms, wouldn’t talk the same, walk the same, be the same. He was different, but he was still Jesse.”

Willow bit her lip, her eyes worried. Xander had been distant, quiet, and not himself when they’d talked on the phone since that night at the Bronze. It had only been two days and she knew he was grieving - they both were - but she had let herself get caught up in the excitement of the new world that had been opening up for her. It had been easier to bury her grief in learning about demons and vampires and Hellmouths than to actually think about Jesse’s death.

She had been spending too much time with Buffy and not enough time with Xander, she realized. She’d known Xander hadn’t really been sick and she should have gone to see him after school instead of hanging out with Buffy. She’d never had a best girl friend and they had been getting to know each other, spending practically every free moment together. A wave of shame swept over her, how could she have let Xander down like that? 

Maybe she could get him interested in researching demons with her. She put a comforting hand on his arm. “Why don’t we go to the library so Giles can explain it to you,” she suggested. “It hurts that Jesse is gone but we should be glad the thing that killed him is dead.”

She was completely unprepared for the glare that Xander shot her. “I don’t trust Mr. Giles.” 

“Xander -!” 

He cut her off before she could say anything else. “Look, Willow, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.” He took a deep breath, and pushed back his anger. “I need your help,” that always got Willow’s full attention. “I don’t know what to tell Jesse’s mom. We have to tell her something.” Xander looked at her pleadingly and Willow’s eyes filled with tears again.

“Xander, we can’t tell her the truth. She’d never believe it.”

“I know. But I’ve spent two days trying to come up with a good lie. I need your help because I haven’t thought of anything even halfway believable.”

“Maybe we should let her think that Jesse ran away.” Willow looked away, fighting to control her tears, then continued quietly. “If we tell her anything else, she’d want to know how we knew. There would be a lot of questions, maybe even from the police. It could get back to Buffy and cause trouble for her.”

Xander couldn’t believe it. “I don’t care if Buffy has to answer a few questions. We can’t leave our best friend’s mother hanging like that without any idea that her son is dead!”

“Xander, what Buffy does is important. And…and maybe it’s better if Jesse’s mom has some hope that she’ll see him again some day,” Willow said, struggling for optimism. 

“Oh, yeah, that’s a great life you’ve got planned for her - spend the next 20 years looking for someone who’s dead.” 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what to do either. But we can’t cause Buffy trouble, what she does is too important.”

He glared at her. “Jesse used to be important to you, too. Tell you what, you go to your world saving cheerleader practice and I’ll figure this out on my own.” 

“That’s not fair, Xander.”

“Guess what? I learned three days ago that life isn’t fair. Deal with it.” As angry as he had ever been at Willow, he turned and stalked off, ignoring her calling after him.


	3. Chapter 3

“I’m really worried about Xander.” Willow set her books down on the table and looked at Giles and Buffy, who were leafing through books at the library table. Well, Giles was leafing. Buffy looked like she was just turning pages. Which, she supposed was leafing, but somehow “leafing” seemed to imply actually looking for something…

Bringing her wayward thoughts back on track, she continued: “He’s been skipping a lot of classes, and he hasn’t been doing any homework. I usually help him and…” she faltered, not wanting to say Jesse’s name knowing how guilty Buffy felt about his death, “and he hasn’t been coming over to study lately,” she finished lamely. 

Giles spoke reassuringly, “It’s not unusual for people to have a hard time dealing with supernatural encounters. Most prefer to pretend it never happened. I know that, at first, Xander was very interested but the second encounter at the Bronze appears to have been too much for him. The bigger surprise is that you have continued to remain interested and helpful.” He gave Willow a warm smile, really she had proved most helpful with her computer skills. From what little Giles knew of him, he doubted that Xander would have been able to bring anything useful to their work. It was probably for the best that the boy obviously couldn’t deal with the reality of the Hellmouth.

“I don’t think that’s the problem.” 

“Giles is right, Willow. Xander has barely even spoken to me since that night at the Bronze. I’m sorry we haven’t become friends, but it’s probably for the best. I know he meant well but it was pretty stupid of him to go charging down into the tunnels after me without any weapons or any way to help. He could have gotten us both killed. You’ve been much more helpful with your computer and researching skills.” She gave her friend a wide smile. Willow actually liked all the research stuff and having her helping with that end of things really cut down on how much Giles got on her about needing to learn more about demons. She already knew everything she needed to know about vampires and with Giles and Willow to fill her in on what she needed to know about the various demons and other weirdities, she was good to go.

Willow was torn. She didn’t want to bring up Jesse and hurt Buffy, but she didn’t want them to misjudge Xander that way. It was Buffy’s argument that finally swayed her. If she brought Xander into their little club (the “Slayerettes” as she secretly thought of herself and Giles, although she would never tell Giles that) he would insist on helping. Xander had never won a fistfight in his life but he had gotten into several, defending her or Jesse from someone. He’d be like that as a Slayerette. And while Larry or Kyle wouldn’t kill him, vampires would. Willow sighed. Maybe she needed to figure out how to have two separate sets of friends, who didn’t overlap. “So” she said brightly. “What’s the demon du jour? You guys look all research-y.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He buried the little vase holding Jesse’s ashes in a small park on the outskirts of town. It had never been much of a park, just a scrap of moderately tended lawn and a few benches but he and Jesse had liked it because it was unpopular and they could hang out there and not be found. It was their place, not even Willow went there with them. They would lie on the grass and read their comic books and talk. It was their refuge when they needed guy time - wrestling and comic books and rude jokes that Willow didn’t approve of. 

He didn’t even tell Willow what he was doing. He couldn’t. Not after she’d said she was glad that vampire-Jesse was dead. Maybe he was being unfair, Xander thought as his shovel bit into the turf. He knew Willow missed Jesse but she seemed to be forgetting him already and it hadn’t even been a week yet. Jesse’s death was still a raw, bleeding wound in his own heart and seeing Willow laughing and talking with Buffy infuriated him. The few times they’d talked, all Willow did was go on and on about was how great Buffy was and how cool it was to be learning all this new stuff about demons. It felt like he’d lost both of his best friends. 

Xander discovered that his angry, racing thoughts had been matched by similar shovel work and the hole was already well over a foot deep. Surprised, he stopped and decided the hole was deep enough. Setting the shovel down, he knelt and picked up the vase, settling it gently into the hole. 

“I talked to your mom today, Jesse. I told her that the girl you left the Bronze with that night was one of the gang members that took over the Bronze and killed those people the next day.” As he spoke, he was scooping dirt back into the hole with his hands, patting it into place around the little vase. The afternoon was fading and he shivered as a small breeze began to rustle the leaves nearby. “I told her that I was afraid that you were dead, because I knew you would have contacted either her or me otherwise. I told her there was no way you had run away, that I would have known if you were planning something like that.” 

“Sorry, man. That was the best I could come up with. I really needed you on this one, you were always better than me at coming up with convincing lies.” A lopsided smile twisted his lips for a moment “Yeah, yeah, I know you could have done better, could have come up with something colorful. Hell, you probably would have just told my parents that I was a vampire and that I would be stopping by one night to kill them. You would have left out the part where I was dust and couldn’t hurt them. But your mom is too cool for that.”

He sighed, his hands still absently smoothing the dirt over the now-refilled hole. “She misses you, man. She’s really hurting. She’s not the only one.” The last part was added in a shaky whisper that barely reached the ears of the just wakened vampire heading for the warehouse district.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After his aborted attempt at conversation with the vampire, Xander walked home. Willow and Buffy were at the Bronze, he knew. He had turned down Willow’s invitation to join them. Right now, he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to go to the Bronze again. The thought of stepping on a missed speck of dust near a certain metal beam made his stomach churn until he was sure that just walking through the doors of the club would cause him to throw up. Even home was better than that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander entered the library with his excuse ready. His shoes sounded loud in the quiet and no one was obviously present. “Hello?” he called, “anyone here?” 

There was no answer from the silent stacks and he headed towards the librarian’s office. “Just little old me,” he muttered to himself, “nothing going on here.” From what he had learned, the librarian generally ate lunch in his office most days but there was some sort of teacher’s meeting he had on Tuesdays during lunch period which kept him out of the library for most of the hour. Buffy and Willow always ate lunch together and he had been ducking Willow’s invitations to join them. 

Until now, he, Jesse, and Willow had pretty much always eaten lunch together and he resented Willow including Buffy in their lunches. It felt like she was trying to replace Jesse and create a new threesome but it wasn’t the same. He and Jesse could talk all day, and Willow had always been right in it with them. Even when they were entering their teens and boys and girls usually started hanging out in same sex groups, they had remained the three musketeers. Willow would call them on their “boy stuff” and they would tease her about being “girly” but it had always felt like there was nothing they couldn’t talk about. Yeah, he and Jesse had their special “guy” times without Willow but for everything else, it had always been the three of them. Jesse’s loss felt like a part of himself had been amputated and there was Willow, cheerfully telling him that the artificial limb she wanted to graft on in Jesse’s place was just as good as the real one.

With Buffy in the mix, awkward pauses were more common than not. He could tell they were holding back, keeping things from him, and both Buffy and Willow were the worst secret keepers he could imagine. They used transparent “codes” and had unbelievably lame excuses and explanations to cover what were obvious references to Slayer stuff.

He’d gotten pissy about it, the second time Willow had conned him into lunch with her only to bring Buffy along as well. Xander was already tired of Buffy’s attitude - it wasn’t anything she said, really, it was more the way she said it. It was obvious that she thought he’d freaked and couldn’t handle the idea of vampires and the Hellmouth and he was pretty sure she thought he was a coward. Other than Cordelia, he didn’t think he’d ever met anyone who was so sure they were right about everything. 

So, he’d called them on it. Told them both to stop acting like he was too dumb to know what they were talking about. That he was neither brain dead nor an amnesiac and he could remember the events of last week just fine. “Do you honestly think I’ve forgotten that vampires exist and that Buffy is the Slayer?” 

“Xander!” Willow hissed. “Not so loud.”

“Look, I get that you’re secret identity gal, but the two of you talk about it all the time and then act like you think I don’t know what you’re talking about and, frankly, it’s pissing me off.” He’d left and since that day had been avoiding Willow around lunch time. She and Buffy were pretty much joined at the hip these days, so he spent less and less time with Willow. And did his best to hide, even from himself, the flare of hurt that Willow didn’t seek him out, that she was obviously choosing Buffy over him.

The library office was locked. Well, he and Jesse hadn’t had a cool, barely reformed, ex-juvenile delinquent as a Scout leader in fifth grade for nothing. In addition to some of the more normal scouting activities, he’d taught the troop to hotwire cars and pick locks. He’d claimed they were useful skills for when you lost your keys. They didn’t earn many merit badges and one of the parents got wind of the lessons and that was the end of the scout troop for several years. But he and Jesse had thought lock picking was cool and had practiced for months until they were both pretty good. 

The lock on the door to the librarian’s office was child’s play. 

Inside the room, were bookcases filled with old books, many of them leather bound. He scanned the titles quickly, those that had titles printed on the spine anyway. Terrific, there were at least 10 books titled “Vampyres” or something similar. Pulling one out at random, he opened it and checked for a table of contents. There wasn’t one. Nobody seemed to want to make this easy for him. He flipped through the book, reading a paragraph here and there at random and decided it would do. He shifted the books on the shelf so the gap wasn’t obvious and slipped out of the office, tucking the book into his backpack as he left.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Xander, wait up.”

He turned at Willow’s call and waited for her, glad that for once she wasn’t with Buffy. 

“Where’ve you been? I’ve hardly seen you in classes all week.” 

He couldn’t tell her that he’d been cutting school to read the books he stole from the library, so he just shrugged. 

“Well, you missed a lot. Poor Dr. Gregory was killed but I’m so glad you missed the crazy substitute teacher we had for two days, she was horrible.” Willow couldn’t help but be glad that Xander had chosen to skip the two days that crazy bug-lady Natalie French had been their teacher. Seeing Xander drooling over her like every other boy in class had been doing would have really bothered her. “But Xander, you’re going to flunk out if you don’t start going to classes again.”

“I know. Look, I’m here, ready to be all studious again.” Even to himself, his humor sounded flat.

“Do you want to get together after school? I can help you catch up with what you’ve missed.”

Xander smiled and Willow felt like cheering. It was the first time she’d seen him smile since Jesse died. “Be my study-buddy? That would be good. You’re right, I need to catch up.”

Willow continued cheerfully, “Why don’t you, me, and Buffy get together for a long study session this weekend? We can meet at my house and…” her voice faltered to a stop and she could have kicked herself as Xander’s smile died and his eyes hardened.

“Thanks, I’ll pass.” He turned to leave and Willow grabbed his arm to stop him.

“Why won’t you give her a chance? You’d like her, I know you would. Why won’t you even talk to her?”

“Because your wonderful Buffy damn near killed me the second day I knew her!” 

“That wasn’t her fault! You followed her into the tunnels, she told you -”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. That night at the Bronze, she decapitated a vampire by Frisbee-ing a cymbal at it. Well, that vampire had me pinned from behind. She didn’t give me a heads up or anything. If I hadn’t turned and seen the cymbal coming at me and been able to duck at the last second, it would have killed both of us.” Xander hadn’t even realized how much that still bothered him until he heard the angry words spilling out of him. At the time, the incident had been forgotten immediately given what happened right afterwards. 

“But you didn’t die. Buffy knows what she’s doing. I’m sure…”

“I don’t want to hear it. I don’t trust her and I don’t trust Mr. Giles and I haven’t seen any reason to change my mind about either of them.”

Willow watched him go with tears in her eyes. Why wouldn’t Xander talk to her anymore? Why couldn’t she fix things between them? 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander had been sitting in the little park for some time, reading, or at least trying to. Reading implied comprehension, he thought with vague resentment, not struggling through paragraph after paragraph of long-winded boringness. Of all the books he'd borrowed from the library office, this one was by far the worst.

He'd taken to bringing the books to the little park and sitting on the grass near Jesse's grave while he tried to learn more about vampires. Sometimes, like now, he found himself talking casually to Jesse, like they were both sprawled on the grass, drinking sodas and reading comic books. Only, instead of debating the relative merits of Sabertooth and Wolverine, he'd argue out loud about Von Haupt’s theories versus McCafferty’s. After four of the librarian’s books on vampires, his head was spinning with words like fledgling, minion, and childer. The only thing the books seemed to agree on was that vampires existed. Other than that, the various authors disagreed on everything - how vampires were created, their culture, relationships, feeding patterns, you name it, he’d read at least two different theories on it. 

He sighed, putting the book down. "I’m not getting anywhere with these books and Mr. Giles has like a thousand more. I’ve got to try something else. Plus, I really am going to flunk out if I skip any more school.” 

Restlessly, he began plucking handfuls of grass and letting it trickle back down through his fingers. “I talked to your mom again. I offered to mow her lawn and stuff but I think seeing me just makes her feel worse.” Every time he saw her, Mrs. McNally looked like she was going to burst into tears. She tried to talk to Xander but she just ended up crying and that made Xander feel guilty, like he was making it harder for her by going to see her. Frustrated, he picked up the book and shoved it into his backpack. “I gotta go. I won’t be able to come by as often for awhile. There’s some stuff I’ve got to do.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that afternoon, Xander stood in front of his closet. There wasn’t a whole lot of choice inside and most of it was unsuitable for what he planned on doing. He found himself yanking a lime green shirt off the hanger and tossing it onto the bed. One after the other, bright colored shirts and sweaters were thrown across the room to join it in a rapidly growing pile. When he was done, there were only a couple of things left hanging in the closet, all muted, dark colors. 

He took off the light blue shirt he had on and added it to the pile, then pulled one of the remaining shirts out of the closet and slid into it. Buttoning it up, he studied the mess on the bed, wondering at the sudden revulsion he felt for all of his brightly colored wardrobe. None of it felt like something he would ever wear again, it felt wrong somehow, like he should be wearing mourning colors. As he went downstairs to get a garbage bag, he wondered if the thrift store would allow him to trade it all in for a couple of dark colored shirts.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was waiting outside Buffy’s house as the sun set. He’d learned from Willow that, most nights, Buffy climbed out her window in the early evening and went vampire hunting. Since the books weren’t helping, and talking to a vampire hadn’t worked, he’d decided to follow her and see what happened. At the very least, he figured she would know where the vampires were.

An hour later, he was still waiting and thoroughly bored. He could tell she was in the house, because he caught glimpses of her and her mother through the living room windows. He was sitting on the ground, leaning against a tree, fighting off sleep when he heard a soft thump of something landing on the grass not far away. Jerking upright, he saw Buffy straighten up from where she’d obviously jumped from the window of her second story bedroom. Straightening her clothes, she walked off down the sidewalk.

Xander gave her a minute before moving to follow. Staying a block behind her, he simply walked down the sidewalk at the same pace as her, not trying to hide. That way, if she spotted him, he could just say he was out for a walk and not following her. 

She turned into the Restfield cemetery and began what appeared to be an aimless ramble through it. If she was following some kind of search pattern, he couldn’t figure it out as he trailed behind her, moving from tombstone to tombstone. They’d traversed at least half the cemetery when he heard voices and the sound of blows.

Moving closer, he saw that Buffy was fighting with a vampire. It was male, wearing what the books called its “true face”, “demon face” or “game face”, and growling as it attacked. Buffy settled into the pattern he remembered from the crypt that night: a flurry of blows, then a pause while insults were exchanged, then more blows. Watching, Xander realized what a dumb idea this had been. He wasn’t going to learn anything except that Buffy was stronger and faster than normal humans and he already knew that. 

Buffy kicked the vampire again, then pulled out a stake and stabbed it cleanly in the heart. Xander gasped as the dark haired vampire vanished in an explosion of dust, pain twisting in his gut at the sight. The pain felt almost physical for a moment and he doubled over, clinging to the tombstone. After a long minute, he straightened up, still clinging white-knuckled to the tombstone for support. He looked up to find Buffy staring in his direction, her stake ready.

“You might as well come out and face me. If I have to come after you, it’s just going to piss me off. And you won’t like me when I’m cranky.”

He briefly considered trying to sneak away, but then stepped out into the open, joining her in the patch of moonlit ground.

“Xander? What the hell are you doing here?”

“Just out for a walk?”

“Are you following me?”

He shrugged. “Guess so.”

“Do you have any idea of how dangerous that is?” When he just shrugged again, she stalked towards him. “Why are you following me?”

“I wanted to see what you did for a living.”

“Go home, Xander. Personally, I think you’re an idiot but Willow would be really upset if you get killed.” She glared up at him, hands on her hips.

He crossed his arms stubbornly. “It’s a free cemetery.”

“I do not get you. You know vampires exist and you’re wandering through cemeteries at night like some kind of all-you-can-eat buffet.” She shook her head in disgust. “Go home.”

“Fine, I’m gone.” Buffy watched him leave, wondering what the hell that had been about. She tucked the stake back inside her jacket and set off for her own home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two weeks later and Xander was getting nowhere. He’d read five more books that he’d taken from Mr. Giles’ collection and watched Buffy stake another vampire but he still didn’t really know anything more about vampires than he had the night Jesse died. 

On the school front, things were getting deeply weird. The whole school was still reeling from Principal Flutie’s death. Sure, Sunnydale had always had a high body count but three dead bodies on the high school campus in less than two months was bad even by Sunnydale standards. 

He’d made arrangements with the guidance counselor to skip some class activities and use the time for make-up tests and extra study time, so he was caught up in all his classes and no longer in danger of flunking out. Ironically, all the time he’d spent reading books on vampires seemed to have improved his ability to focus on his school work. In the last few years, he’d gotten so used to studying with Willow that he’d gotten really lazy about doing his own work. Jesse and he had figured out years ago that, if they played dumb for long enough, Willow would give them the answers. 

He’d found a balance that was working for now. He went to class, did his homework, and read the books he continued to take out of the library. He talked to Willow once in awhile, but they couldn’t seem to really connect anymore. The secrets they were both keeping from each other made a wall between them that they couldn’t seem to get past. He’d talked it over with Jesse - and how crazy did that sound? - but he couldn’t seem to resolve his conflicted feelings about Willow.

And then he overheard a conversation that shattered his fragile peace.

That afternoon, he fell into step with Willow as she headed home after her last class. 

“Xander!”

He ignored her beaming smile. “I heard you guys talking this morning. Why is it that this Angel gets a pass? He’s a vampire, right? Buffy’s supposed to be a vampire Slayer. So how come she makes an exception for vampires she’s dating? Why him and not anyone else?” 

Willow sighed. Well, at least he was talking to her. “It’s complicated Xander. Angel has a soul.”

“What?”

“He was cursed by gypsies. They restored his soul.”

Xander laughed. “Do you have any idea how stupid that sounds?”

“I know it sounds weird, but it was like 100 years ago. Giles says there’s no record of him killing anyone since.”

Xander shook his head. Anger had been growing inside him all day, ever since he had overheard the conversation between Buffy, Willow and Mr. Giles about the vampire Buffy had been dating. It was one thing to accept the concept of a Slayer whose role was to kill all vampires. Somehow, learning that she wanted to make an exception for her boyfriend seemed wrong on so many levels. It was like she was setting herself up as God, deciding who lived and who died. They had all shouted him down when he told them he could reach Jesse. No, Jesse was a vampire, he had to die. But not, apparently, Angel.

“You know,” he began, quietly enough. “I’ve read almost a dozen books about vampires now. Mr. Giles is telling you only one theory about them. There are several writers who believe the human lives on in the vampire. Some even think the human and demon eventually merge, so that the demon becomes more like the human.”

“Xander, we’ve been through this. The demon takes over the body. The memories are still there, but it isn’t the person anymore.”

“Did you even listen to what Mr. Giles said this morning? He said that vampires have the movements, the memories, and even the personality of the human. How can all of that remain if the person is gone?”

“I don’t know, but the person’s soul is gone. That’s why Angel is different.”

“Ax murderers have souls, Willow. Hitler, Ted Bundy, Jeffrey Dahmer, they all had souls. Hell, my dad has a soul, not that he does much with it. As far as I can tell, having a soul doesn’t mean squat.”

“Ok, but Angel’s been helping us out. He’s warned Buffy about a bunch of things and helped save her life more than once.” She hurried on when it was obvious Xander wasn’t impressed. “Why don’t you join us in the library? You could help us research and maybe we could answer your questions. Maybe if you met Angel you could see how different he is from other vampires.”

“So, Buffy’s not going to stake him?”

“Well…, not as long as he’s not killing or doing anything bad. She’s going to let him prove himself to her,” Willow said hesitantly, she didn’t understand where Xander was going with this and she didn’t want to have another argument with him. He was always on the edge of anger these days. Moody and always wearing dark clothes, sometimes she wondered where her Xander had gone and if she would ever see him again.

Xander didn’t say anything for a long time, and Willow just walked quietly beside him. This was the longest they had been together in weeks and she would take what she could get. They were approaching her house before he spoke again.

“So, where does the souled vampire live, these days? A crypt like other self-respecting vampires?”

Willow shot him a suspicious look but Xander was gazing straight ahead, his serious expression belying his flippant tone. Willow couldn’t see the harm in answering, it wasn’t like she really knew where Angel lived. “He has an apartment somewhere near the Bronze.”

“Does he work? You know, night watchman, late night phone sex operator?”

Willow laughed at the idea. “I don’t think so. Even Buffy doesn’t really know much about him yet. He’s like 240 years old, isn’t that wild? I mean, imagine the history he’s seen.”

“Maybe Buffy can bring him to history class for show and tell.” They’d reached her house and were standing by the front door. Willow asked hopefully, “Do you want to come in?”

Xander smiled. “Let’s not push our luck. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, Xander.” Willow stood on her porch watching him until he was out of sight, then went inside. Her parents weren’t home and Buffy would probably be out patrolling. Sighing, she switched on her computer. Maybe there would be someone fun in the chatrooms tonight. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You know, you can back off any time now.” Buffy glared at Xander. Once again, Willow was upset and on the verge of tears because of something Xander had said to her and she was sick of it. Willow was fragile enough after the whole Malcolm/Moloch fiasco without Xander dumping on her too. And Giles had not been thrilled to learn that Xander had been reading his books and was now talking about moving all of the more sensitive volumes into the weapons cage for greater security and she just knew who was going to end up doing the moving.

“Everything is so black and white for you. Must be nice.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it sounded like. You’re like: all vampires are bad, except for Angel, who’s 100% good. And that’s just idiotic. Way I hear it, Angel got cursed with a soul and sat on his ass for 100 years and didn’t do squat for anybody. The soul didn’t make him good, just because he stopped killing, it just made him useless.” Xander’s latest purloined book had been an old Watcher’s journal that had made some passing references to Buffy’s boyfriend.

“Leave Angel out of this. Vampires are evil, soulless demons. It is as simple as that. That’s why Slayers exist, to keep them in check.”

“Yeah, well that’s why wolves exist, to keep the deer population from overrunning the world. Doesn’t make wolves evil, it’s just what they do.”

“What vampires do is kill people. That’s different. When wolves start killing people, they’re hunted down and killed.” Buffy raised her eyebrows at him, daring him to keep the analogy going.

“Ok, good point,” Xander conceded. Changing tack, he tried again. “Look, vampires are people who are possessed by a demon. That’s how Mr. Giles explained it back when I learned that vampires are real.”

“For god’s sake, Xander, he was giving you the Vampire’s for Dummies version, just before telling you to butt out.”

“Buffy, I’ve read way more of his books than you probably ever will and the Watcher party line is just one theory, the one that best supports their ‘stake first ask questions never’ policy. Tell me, if all vampires are irredeemably evil, why do you have to protect the weekly blood shipment to the hospital? Why are vampires even interested in bagged blood if they’re all evil?”

“It’s an emergency supply thing,” Buffy said dismissively. “Who knows, maybe it’s their version of snack food.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that most of the vampires you deal with have just risen? Maybe they’re the demon equivalent of babies - interested only in eating and sleeping.”

“Babies don’t kill people when they eat.”

Xander sighed, the argument hadn’t helped clear up anything in his own mind and he could tell Buffy hadn’t really listened to anything he’d tried to say. And maybe she shouldn’t. It still came down to the fact that vampires killed humans, live and let live just didn’t work as a policy towards them. “I know,” he said finally. “I’m not saying I have any answers, I’m just saying that there are questions that someone needs to ask.”

“And who made it your job to ask?”

He looked away. Jesse did. “Got nothing better to do right now,” he shrugged.

“Well, find something better because you are seriously getting on my last nerve.” With that, Buffy spun on her heel and left.

Xander sat down at one of the desks and buried his head in his hands. What the hell was he trying to prove anyway? Buffy was right, who made him the advocate for no automatic death penalty for vampires? Ok, he did know the answer to that one but, if the theory was right, that the older a vampire was, the more control it had, he still didn’t have any solution. It wasn’t like they could let vampires kill anyone they wanted for however many years it took for them to stop killing indiscriminately. And how much better was a vampire who only killed selectively? If a vampire only killed one Hitler a week, did that make it ok? And who divvied out the scarlet V’s? Were there enough truly bad people in the world who deserved a vampire death sentence to support the vampire population?

Realizing that his thoughts had led him down a path where he was seriously contemplating the idea of a government agency appointed to choose vampire victims, worse, that his mind was busy coming up with acronyms for the new agency, he groaned and began beating his head against the desk. He’d known for a long time that he was unhealthily obsessed - not that there is anything unhealthy about a hobby of spying on serial killers with preternaturally sharp senses and twice my strength and speed - but he just couldn’t let it go. It was like the only way he could deal with Jesse’s death was to learn everything there was to know about the thing that had taken over his body. Because, god, he wanted so badly to be able to say, once and for all, that it had killed Jesse and that his hands were clean. Maybe then the nightmares would stop.

~~~~~~~~~~~


	4. Chapter 4

Slouching through the halls, head down, Xander seriously considered skipping the rest of the day. He hadn’t cut any classes lately and was caught up and actually doing well in all of his classes. One missed day wouldn’t bring the wrath of Principal Snyder down on him. Probably. Hell, a good third of the kids in the class hadn’t come back after Wendall and his spiders this morning. He could claim he was traumatized by the sight of all those big, hairy spiders.

Still mulling over the eternal to skip or not to skip dilemma, Xander stepped into the math classroom and stumbled to a halt as he found himself in the familiar darkness of the Bronze. “What the…” he began when preternaturally strong hands grabbed his shirt, slamming him up against a metal beam. He gasped in pain and clawed at the hands holding him, only to freeze in shock at the sight of Jesse in full vampire face grinning at him. “Jesse!” 

“Buddy!” 

Xander just stood there, unable to form words as his nightmares became real. He could feel Jesse’s hands on him, feel the pain from the metal digging into his back, hear the screams and running feet all around him in the dimly lit chaos inside the club. 

Jesse shook his head in mock sorrow. “Still the pathetic loser you always were, aren’t you, Xander? You haven’t even figured out that Jesse didn’t care about you. He was just so desperate for a friend that he even willing to put up with you.” 

“That’s not true.” Somehow, there was a stake in his hand and he was pressing it to Jesse’s chest.

“I have Jesse’s memories, remember?” 

The iron grip relaxed and the vampire’s face shifted, the familiar human lines returning, the eyes darkening to Jesse’s brown. “Xander! Oh, god, help me! The demon’s trying to take over. I’m fighting it but it’s too strong. Please, you have to help me!” His dark eyes pleaded with Xander and his hands clung desperately.

“Jesse, what can I…”

Jesse lurched forward, shoved from behind and the stake plunged into his heart. His features dissolved into ash even as his lips formed Xander’s name. 

“Xander!” 

He staggered back, choking on the taste of ashes in his mouth, and fell. Someone grabbed his shoulder and he struck out wildly, his eyes blind to everything but the scattered dust on the floor. 

“Xander! Xander! Snap out of it!” A slap stung his face, then another, and he finally was able to tear his eyes away from Jesse’s ashes and look up. Cordelia was standing over him, staring down at him, her hand raised for another slap. 

Shaking, his breath coming in ragged pants, Xander looked around wildly, then back up at Cordelia. The sight of Queen C in a frumpy blouse and skirt, with frizzy hair sticking out like a bad cartoon character, didn’t help him with his reality issues. “What the hell is going on?” he managed to say.

“I don’t know. This is a nightmare! I mean, look at me! I was in the Chess Club, and they were saying I belonged there. Then all of a sudden I was here.”

“The Chess Club?” Reality was getting further away by the minute but focusing on Cordelia kept him from losing it inside his own nightmare-come-true. Xander would never have thought he would be grateful to Cordelia Chase for anything.

“Don’t ask. We have to find Buffy. As much as I hate to say it, this kind of thing is her turf. I have a date tonight, she has to fix this! She’s always around when weird stuff happens, so she should be able to fix whatever this is.”

Xander saw two vampires moving towards them and scrambled to his feet. “Way to set priorities, Cordelia. Let’s get out of here, then you can worry about your date.” Grabbing her hand, he set off running through the darkness, heading for the club’s back door. They joined the others fleeing the vampire-infested club and stumbled outside, only to find that the nightmare didn’t stop at the door. Surprised to find that it was dark outside, Xander hesitated for a second, then set off, still towing Cordelia by the hand. “Let’s try the school. Whatever’s going on, it was broad daylight only a few minutes ago. I’m betting everyone’s still at school.”

The whole town was going crazy. Monsters and panicking, sobbing people filled the streets. By unspoken agreement, they both ignored everything they saw, detouring around anything that looked threatening and blocking out everything else. They were halfway back to the school, when a wave of blinding light passed over them. They both cried out, and instinctively shielded their eyes, hearing others around them doing the same.

When they opened them, everything was normal again. Dazed, Xander looked over at Cordelia and saw that she was wearing her usual ultra-fashionable clothes, her hair and makeup perfectly done. All around them, people were looking around dazedly, as disoriented looking as Xander himself felt.

Cordelia looked down at herself. “Oh, thank god!” She pointedly snatched her hand free from Xander’s grip. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

“What?” Ok, not the snappiest comeback he’d ever come up with but he was still reeling from the sudden transition from nightmare to normality.

“You are not someone I hold hands with, cave-man brain. Keep your distance.”

“Gee, I hate to burst your bubble, Miss Ego, but the only reason I was touching you was to try and save your worthless life. And I’m already beginning to regret it!”

“Oh, please. I saved your life!”

“Forget it, Cordy. You’re welcome and I’m gone.”

“Good!” 

Watching Cordy spin on her heels and stalk off, somehow seemed an appropriate end to the day. Heading home, Xander decided that he and the Cartoon Channel were going to get up close and personal tonight. There was no way he was going to sleep after everything he’d seen today.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Maybe it made him a coward, but Xander had decided he was going along with the deaf, dumb and blind for once. He was clearly in the majority with that decision. At school, you would never know that anything even mildly strange had happened yesterday. Cordelia passed him in the halls without so much as a flicker of her perfectly-curled eyelashes to indicate that she remembered being trapped in a nightmare with him. 

Probably that wasn’t a good example. Cordelia’s self-centeredness had been the stuff of legend since grade school and she might legitimately be suffering hysterical amnesia rather than let herself remember being seen looking like that in public. No one was even joking about the spiders, though and an entire class had seen them crawling around.

Nope. Denial was in full swing and the main topic of conversation was the upcoming dance and May Queen election, neither of which interested Xander in the slightest. Watching as posters were taped to the walls, Xander wondered if there was something about Sunnydale that made people actually forget the crazy things that happened and, if so, why he was immune. He couldn’t forget even when he tried to. Hours of cartoons and chocolate hadn’t succeeded in erasing the feeling of Jesse’s clutching hands or the sound of his desperate voice. He couldn’t be the only one whose worst nightmare had come to life in vivid detail but you would never know it looking around at the chattering groups of students.

This time, he was taking the coward’s way out and jumping on the denial wagon along with everyone else. He wasn’t going to ask for explanations that would inevitably lead to describing what he had experienced while whatever-it-was was happening. As far as the world was concerned, he was a normal kid in a normal school. He wasn’t even going to read the latest book he’d “borrowed” from the library. Nothing going on in his head but math and English.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Don’t touch me!” 

Hearing the shout from inside the library, Xander stopped on his way out of school. It was late, he’d been studying for his upcoming exams, and it was easier to get intense study done in one of the deserted classrooms than in his house. His father was “between jobs” again and the blaring tv and his loud complaints about everything were hard to shut out. He hesitated, knowing it was almost certainly nothing, but decided he needed to check what was going on. Opening the library door quietly, he peered inside. 

Buffy was arguing with Mr. Giles and another man and Xander frankly watched the entire confrontation, withdrawing only as Buffy headed towards the door. He ducked into a corridor and waited till her footsteps had faded from hearing, then entered the library.

“Are you two just stupid or are you trying to get her killed?”

Mr. Giles looked up and, under other circumstances, Xander might have felt bad for him, seeing the fatigue and worry in his eyes. Right now, he was too angry over what he had just heard to care. 

“Please leave, I don’t have time for whatever your problem is.”

“Fine, I’m out of here. But let me just say this: I don’t even really like Buffy and I wouldn’t do to her what you two just did.”

“What are you talking about?” It was the other man, Angel probably, based on Buffy’s remark about him never going to die.

“I’m talking about elementary psychology that even a high school kid knows. You don’t tell someone they are destined to die and then expect them to win the fight. You guys just told her that an infallible prophecy says she’s going to die. Talk about setting someone up to fail. What the hell’s wrong with you two?”

“Would you have us lie to her?”

“Hell, yes. Give her some hope she’s going to win or she won’t. Haven’t either of you ever heard of a self-fulfilling prophecy? Tell her you found a footnote that says if she fights the Master in a pink tutu she’ll win. Tell her something. Something that will give her some reason to try. Or you might as well kill her yourself. 

“And that isn’t even considering the fact that those kind of prophecies are the oldest trick in the book. Ten to one if she never goes to meet the Master, he won’t go free! What kind of movies do you people watch anyway?” Disgusted with both of them, Xander stormed out, his low opinion of the librarian confirmed by what he’d overheard.

Giles and Angel looked at each other, more shaken than either cared to admit. Giles took his glasses off and began polishing them as he thought furiously. “The boy may have a point.”

“He’s just a kid. He doesn’t know anything about the Codex or the situation with the Master.”

“Yes, but he’s right that prophecies can be… tricky. They have a way of giving us only enough information to ensure we inadvertently bring about the events foretold. The original definition of a self-fulfilling prophecy is that it is a false prediction that creates new behavior which then makes the false prediction come true.”

Giles replaced his glasses and turned to the bookcases, continuing to ruminate out loud as he looked for a particular volume. “If we consider the Codex in that light…” He gave a small exclamation of satisfaction as he pulled a volume from the shelf. Opening it, he quickly found the page describing and illustrating the Harvest. “What we know of the Master is that he is trapped inside the Hellmouth. We can presume that it takes more than just a sufficient quantity of blood to release him, otherwise he would simply have his followers bring him enough victims to free him. During the Harvest, he created a link between himself and the Vessel so that he would draw strength from the Vessel’s feeding. That was a special circumstance that could only be created at that specific date and time.  
So, considering those two bits of information together: the Master needs more than just human blood to free himself. It requires either a specific convergence of events or perhaps…”

“Blood that’s more than just human,” Angel finished grimly. “Like the blood of a Slayer?”

“Precisely. By facing him and being defeated, the Master feeds from her and is released.” 

“Then all we have to do is stop her from facing him?”

“Unfortunately, it’s not that simple. His influence is increasing: vampire numbers are on the rise and they are becoming more aggressive. Eventually, the spillover will affect the town far more than it usually does. No, the Master has to be killed but we must find a way to defeat him while ensuring he cannot kill Buffy.”

“It’s not going to be easy.” 

“I don’t expect it to be. However, I read a passage….” Giles shuffled through the books on the table for a moment. “‘The vampires will gather. They will know of his coming. They will be his army. They will go forth to do his bidding.’ I believe that means the Master will be alone, waiting for the Slayer to appear at the pre-destined time. Like all mythic confrontations, it would traditionally be one on one.”

“So, if Buffy doesn’t go, or at least doesn’t go alone…”

“Precisely. If the two of us go with her, adding our strength to hers, perhaps we can thwart this infallible prophecy and succeed in both stopping the Master and preventing the Slayer from dying.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the shadows outside the Bronze, Xander watched his classmates go in and out, all dressed to the nines. Music and light spilled from the open door but didn’t reach the fire escape where he sat watching, unseen, a quiet, dark figure in the shadows. In another life, he and Jesse and Willow would have all gone to the dance together. Jesse would have spent half the evening trying to get Cordelia to dance with him and the other half dancing with Willow and Xander in a cheerful threesome. Xander smiled as he recalled other dances, none of them were good dancers but they had had fun. 

Those carefree days before he knew that vampires existed outside of movies, sometimes seemed so long ago. Jesse was gone and Xander had killed him. A handful of ashes in a hole in the ground were all that remained of his best friend. That was his reality now. 

Across the way, where there was music and lights and laughter, Buffy and her vampire boyfriend, along with Willow, Mr. Giles and the computer teacher were heading towards the entrance of the Bronze. Mr. Giles, Buffy, and the vampire all looked a little worse for wear, somewhat rumpled and dirty, but they were joking and laughing. Bitterness filled Xander as he saw Willow joking with the vampire, walking beside him and clearly not afraid. Treating him like a person, like a friend.

Xander continued to watch, staring blindly in the direction of the club long after they had all gone inside. His anger at their acceptance of Angel was banked for now, as he settled down to wait for them to leave. He would follow Angel home and the vampire would tell him what he needed to know.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	5. Chapter 5

“Xander!” Willow ran to catch up with him in the hallway. It was the first day of classes after summer break and she was determined to get their friendship back on track. She knew if she tried she could still reach him, he couldn’t have changed that much. Somewhere inside, he was still her Xander.

He turned and looked at her, eyebrows raised in silent query.

“We’re going to the Bronze tonight, Buffy and me, I mean. Would you like to come with us?” Her eyes were hopeful.

“Sorry, I’m busy,” he said briefly, turning away.

Her hand on his arm stopped him in mid-turn. “Please, Xander. It’s been so long since we’ve spent any time together.” The neutral judge gave her an 8 out of a possible 10 on the Willow scale of pleading eyes. “I miss you.”

He was surprised to find that it no longer had any effect on him. “As I said, I’m busy.” Despite the fact that they had their next class together, he strode off without waiting for her. 

He’d hardly seen Willow all summer. Her parents had taken her on a trip immediately after school was out and she’d been gone for a month. That had been almost enough time for him to have gotten over the anger that had filled him every time he remembered that the week before she left had been Jesse’s birthday. Willow had let it go by without a word or sign that she even remembered what day it was. Worse, heading home from Jesse’s grave that night, Xander had seen her and Buffy out walking. Unable to stop himself, he’d followed them - straight to the Bronze. Stepping inside for the first time since Jesse died, he’d watched from a distance as Willow and Buffy met up with Angel. Seeing Willow laughing and joking like that had infuriated him. Willow wasn’t the kind of person who forgot birthdays. She was always the first to start talking about them, sometimes weeks in advance. Since second grade, she and Jesse and Xander had celebrated all of their birthdays together. They’d even found a way to get together the year Jesse had chicken pox and the year Xander was in the hospital with a broken leg. Yet there she sat. Apparently, not even the presence of a vampire reminded her of what day it was. She’d obviously written Jesse off completely; fifteen years of friendship erased after only a few weeks.

He’d left the Bronze and avoided Willow when she called to tell him she would be gone and that she hoped she’d see him when she got back. With the school closed and no more access to Mr. Giles’ books, Xander had gone to Angel’s apartment, something he’d been trying to work up the nerve to do ever since he’d followed the vampire home after the spring dance. He’d hoped to talk to the vampire but it had been a complete waste of time. Angel wouldn’t talk to him at all, wouldn’t even let him into his apartment. He just kept telling Xander that he was in over his head and that Xander should go home and stay away from vampires before he got himself killed. He refused to tell Xander anything about what vampires were like, saying that he wasn’t going to participate in “a boy’s morbid curiosity”. Xander had managed to keep just enough hold on his temper not to smack Angel across his smug face with the cross he carried in his back pocket.

Over the course of the loneliest summer Xander had ever spent, he’d begun seeking out vampire lairs during daylight hours, hoping he could watch them safely during the day. From the books he’d read, he had an idea of what he was looking for, the kind of places that vampires stayed in, but vampires had seemed pretty thin on the ground during the whole summer. He didn’t know if it was a summer thing, or if it had something to do with the Master’s death, or what. Personally, if he burst into flame at the touch of direct sunlight, he wouldn’t choose to live in Southern California but that hadn’t seemed to bother the vampires last spring. He’d found a couple of places that looked like vampires might have stayed there and he’d kept an eye on them, checking back once in awhile, but mostly he hadn’t found any sign that Sunnydale even had vampires. Sometimes, he caught himself wondering if he hadn’t made up the whole thing. If he wasn’t just Xander, the crazy loon who talked to himself in the little park on the edge of town. He’d become so lonely that one day he’d found himself considering digging up Jesse’s ashes, just to prove to himself that they really were there, that he hadn’t made up his best friend and that Jesse really had existed. 

Stopping by Jesse’s house had cured that fixation but it hadn’t helped his loneliness. Mrs. McNally had begun crying almost as soon as she let him in the house and had fled the living room, leaving Xander standing there awkwardly not sure what to do. Finally, he’d simply left, closing the door quietly behind him and feeling worse than when he’d arrived. He hadn’t been back since, which made him feel guilty and like a complete coward on top of everything else.

He’d welcomed it when Willow first called after she’d gotten back into town. It was only mid-July and he’d already read everything on the summer suggested reading list. The list that he and Jesse usually “lost” before they’d even gotten home on the last day of school. Willow would tell them what the books were about and that had always been good enough for them. This summer, Xander had actually read everything on the list, spending the hot afternoons with a book in the shade under the trees near Jesse’s grave. None of his usual summer activities had held any appeal because he’d always done them with Jesse. It felt like betraying Jesse to go alone to the beach, or the swimming pool, or the basketball court. Mostly he knew it was ridiculous, that Jesse wouldn’t mind, but a part of him was simply unable to move on and couldn’t even contemplate trying to make new friends. Which was probably just as well. He was pretty sure he’d be a lousy friend right now.

He and Willow had gone out for ice cream but it hadn’t been long before she was talking about how Xander should come help her and Mr. Giles research to back up Buffy in her fight against “the forces of darkness.” She’d chattered on about how important the research was, about how Buffy, Giles and Angel had gone into the tunnels together and killed the Master after Giles’ research had shown him the flaw in a seemingly infallible prophecy predicting Buffy’s death. She described how they had killed the Master by firing crossbows at him simultaneously. She didn’t even notice Xander flinch as she eagerly described how many times they had had to shoot him before one of the bolts had finally struck the Master in the heart, thereby preventing the Hellmouth from opening and saving the world. For someone who hadn’t been there, she gave a pretty vivid description.

It was only later than he noticed that his part in slapping some sense into her two heroes had obviously not been mentioned. Not that he cared if two people he had no respect for gave him credit or not but it sure didn’t do anything to change his opinion of them. 

Their ice cream date had ended disastrously. Willow kept complaining about how much he had changed and pushing him to join her merry band of Slayerettes - although he did get a sardonic laugh at the idea of Mr. Proper English Tweed guy and a vampire being reduced to 60’s girl group back-up singers. When she told him that she missed Jesse too but they couldn’t spend the rest of their lives grieving, Xander had exploded. They’d ended up in a shouting match and being thrown out of the ice cream parlor and that was the last time he’d seen her, until now.

~~~~~

Watching from her locker as Xander rebuffed Willow, Buffy sighed. She quickly grabbed her books and snapped the door closed, spinning the lock. She moved casually to Willow’s side and gave her a bright smile. “Ready for the truly epic boredom that is English Lit?”

Willow pulled her eyes from Xander’s retreating back and managed to smile back at her. “It’s not boring,” she corrected automatically. At Buffy’s wholly expected skeptical look, she warmed to the comfort of familiar ground. “It’s important to know this stuff.”

“Yeah right, because in no way will it throw me off to be calculating the precise arc of my stake through geometric formulas in the midst of battle. Oops, my bad,” she shot an amused look at Willow, “that was for your ‘you need to learn geometry’ pep talk. I meant it wouldn’t throw me off to be reciting Shakespeare during fights.”

“Ok, maybe not in the middle of a fight but it’s important to know math and sciences in the computer age.” 

“I notice you’re not defending Shakespeare,” Buffy teased, knowing she was letting herself in for a speech on the virtues of reading the Bard.

Good mood restored, Willow shifted gears as they entered the classroom, launching into the anticipated defense of the playwright. Buffy unobtrusively steered Willow over towards two free seats near the windows, letting Willow’s chatter wash over her without really listening. She shot a hostile glare towards Xander, slouched as usual in the last row, wanting to shake him until his teeth rattled. He didn’t look up from doodling in his notebook.

From everything Buffy had heard, Xander used to be the class clown. A complete loser apparently, without any of Willow’s smarts, but goofy and amiable and always cracking jokes. Granted, most of that information came from Cordelia, which meant it wasn’t particularly reliable. Certainly it didn’t fit Willow’s sadness over losing her life-long friend. But Willow also talked wistfully about how much Xander had changed in the past year. Willow kept trying to reach him and he kept rejecting her, leaving Buffy to try and comfort Willow when she got depressed every time Xander pushed her away.

The way Willow described him, Xander was loyal and brave and a great friend. He certainly wasn’t the moody, bitter, sarcastic loner that Buffy knew. As far as she could tell, Willow had been his only friend, and apparently he didn’t even to want to be friends with Willow anymore. He couldn’t seem to deal with the fact that Willow and Buffy were close. 

Probably he was just jealous of their friendship. Thank god, Willow seemed to finally be getting over him. Buffy knew that Willow had had a giant-sized crush on Xander for years. She had been trying to steer Willow away from Xander, encouraging her to look at other boys, trying to help Willow get over her shyness and to give someone else a chance. And it seemed to finally be working. It was taking her less and less time to snap Willow out of the depression Xander could send her into. Now all she needed was to find Willow a boyfriend and presto, Xander would be of the past. And it couldn’t happen soon enough - Willow was too nice a person to waste her life away mooning over a jerk like Xander Harris.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Mr. Harris.”

Standing at his locker, Xander looked up and was surprised to see the librarian calling to him.

“Please come to the library for a minute.”

“I have class.”

“This won’t take long and I will give you a note.”

Shrugging, Xander slung his backpack over one shoulder and followed Mr. Giles into the library. “What’s up?”

“I understand that you made a habit last year of taking books out of my private collection.” 

He didn’t bother denying it. “I returned them.”

“That isn’t the point. Those are my private volumes and they are not available to be checked out by students.”

“That’s probably why I didn’t check them out.”

“Technically, you were stealing them.”

“Actually, I think technically I was borrowing them.” 

Giles sighed heavily. “Are you intending to continue taking my books this year?”

“That depends. Will you let me borrow them openly?”

“Mr. Harris, you have enough information about what really goes on in this town to know that I need to have those books available for reference. I don’t wish to be overly dramatic, but the fate of the world can rest, quite literally, on my access to those books. I cannot just lend them out to students. And that is quite leaving aside the fact that many of them are extremely valuable and irreplaceable.”

Xander had crossed his arms stubbornly during this speech. “Did you ever even notice that any of them were gone last year? I only ever took one at a time.” He considered that for a second. “Ok, at the most, two.”

“Mr. Harris, those books are my private property. I would be well within my rights to call the police.”

“Come on, we both know you’re not going to do that.”

“And why wouldn’t I?” Giles took his glasses off and rubbed his forehead tiredly. Xander repressed a smile, the librarian had obviously not anticipated his bluff being called. 

“You think Snyder and the school board are going to approve of some of the books you have? I really don’t think you’re going to risk calling attention to your true role here in Sunnydale.”

Mr. Giles glared at him silently for a long moment but didn’t try to refute Xander’s point or the implied threat.

“Look, can we maybe do a compromise thing here?”

At the librarian’s heavy sigh, Xander knew he’d won. “What are you proposing?”

“How about I take only one book at a time, openly, kind of a private check out system. Any time you need the book I have to save the world or whatever, I’ll bring it back immediately.”

“Why are you reading these books?”

“You’re kidding, right?” 

When the librarian just continued to stare at him, Xander looked away, uncomfortable for the first time since the conversation began. After a long pause, during which the librarian waited silently for a response, Xander finally answered reluctantly. “Last spring, I learned that vampires exist and that a lot of them live in Sunnydale. Not to mention the whole Hellmouth thing. Don’t you think it makes sense for me to want to learn more about it?”

Mr. Giles continued to study his face intently and Xander now met his gaze squarely. What he’d said was true, it just wasn’t the whole truth.

“And yet Willow tells me that you have refused her repeated invitations to join us in our research efforts.”

Well, two points for the old guy. He obviously sensed that Xander wasn’t telling him everything. Xander’s jaw tightened at the confirmation that Willow had been talking about him with Buffy and Mr. Giles. “She probably also told you that she and I aren’t really friends anymore.”

“I know she regrets that very deeply.”

He made a sharp motion with his hand, cutting the librarian off before he could say anything further on the subject. “Not the issue here. Do we have a deal on the books?”

Mr. Giles sighed heavily. “I suppose if I don’t agree, you will simply continue to pilfer my collection.”

Xander’s mouth quirked up on one side but he didn’t admit that that was his plan.

“Very well, we have an agreement.”

“So, what would you recommend?” Xander nodded towards the office and, ignoring Mr. Giles’ put-upon sigh, began describing which books he’d already read.

Two minutes later, he had his first quasi-officially checked out book on vampires and a note for his third period teacher. Reading it out on the way to class, Xander was amused to learn that he was late because he had been assisting the librarian with moving furniture.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The only bad part about his new semi-official borrowing status was that Willow of course learned about it and continued to press him to join their research sessions. Xander really didn’t want to get into another fight with her, so he kept ducking the question. Unfortunately, she took that as encouragement and sought him out several times, telling him again how important what they were doing was.

She told him about how some kid vampire she called The Anointed One had tried to revive the Master and how vampires were coming back to the Hellmouth after the summer lull. She’d tried to convince Xander to help them research the Anointed One and couldn’t seem to grasp the fact that he was absolutely horrified at the idea of Buffy staking a six year old kid. “But it’s a vampire,” she’d said, as if he had missed the beginning of the film and needed a plot summary. “I know it’s kind of squicky, but that’s the only good thing about vampires - no bodies to clean up.” 

He’d left abruptly, ignoring her calling after him and ran outside, where he concentrated on breathing deeply until the nausea subsided. Willow had always been one of the softest hearted people he had ever known. For god’s sake, she wouldn’t even step on spiders. He and Jesse used to laugh at her because she always insisted on putting spiders outside instead of squashing them. Xander would never understand how she could talk so casually about killing things that walked, talked and acted just like people.

One good thing came out of the conversation. Willow probably didn’t realize it, but she had given him the location of The Anointed One’s Court, as the latest book Mr. Giles had lent him called vampire groups. Well, “Court” or “lair” or “nest”, depending on circumstances he was still struggling to understand. He suspected Mr. Giles had deliberately given him a book that was difficult to read in an effort to discourage him. If so, he obviously didn’t believe that Xander had already plowed his way through a good third of the librarian’s vampire books. Anyway, according to Willow, the unsuccessful attempt to revive the Master - and why had the Master left bones behind? - had been in a factory near the edge of town. From Willow’s description, it sounded like one of the places he’d found over the summer that he’d thought vampires might have stayed in. If they had moved back in, he was going to check it out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The old factory was two stories high and the windows on the ground floor had been blacked out. A catwalk ran the length of three sides of the building below the second floor windows and some of those windows weren’t covered over. 

Climbing up to the catwalk proved surprisingly easy, even while trying to be as quiet as possible. Despite the fact that it was well before sunset, he didn’t want to alert any vampires that might be inside to his presence - after all, he might be crazy but he wasn’t an idiot. He firmly suppressed the little voice trying to tell him that what he was doing was both crazy and idiotic. Xander moved along the catwalk, keeping below the level of the windows and heading towards the end of the building. From his explorations over the summer, he knew that the main floor was a large open room and that his best view would be down the length of the building. 

Reaching the end of the building, he crouched down and peered inside the window. The interior was unevenly lit, with pools of shadows where the lamps and the few patches of sun didn’t illuminate. There was no-one obviously present, so Xander settled himself cautiously to wait for the sun to set. 

He didn’t have to wait that long. The sun was still just above the horizon when a small boy walked down the spiral staircase leading to the second story rooms in the back of the factory. He was followed by several vampires who entered the main room from different areas and clustered around the boy. Xander felt his heart begin to pound and he almost called out a warning to the boy but stopped himself before he uttered a sound. The kid was the only one not showing demon features and he was clearly not afraid of the vampires surrounding him. Xander pulled out his cross and clutched it tightly as he watched. The boy climbed onto a raised seat of some kind and began speaking, Xander couldn’t hear the words but the vampires were nodding and listening with respect. The books he’d read talked about hierarchy in vampire groups, although with way too many different theories on how it worked, and he suspected he was seeing an example. What he couldn’t figure out was why all the other vampires would follow a kid. Did the boy have some sort of special power or was he like one of those underage kings of England and the others accepted him as their ruler through birthright? Xander fervently wished that he could hear what was being said because the silent play he was watching wasn’t really telling him anything.

Gradually becoming aware that his knees were killing him, Xander shifted cautiously so that he was sitting and for the first time realized he didn’t have a plan for getting out of there. The sun had set and at least one vampire had already left the factory. He really wasn’t prepared to stay on the catwalk all night and he wasn’t thrilled with the idea of climbing down with vampires wandering around. Absently rubbing some feeling back into his lower legs, Xander was forced to wonder once again if he’d gone completely crazy. Sitting in the growing darkness on the second floor of a building filled with vampires, he honestly couldn’t come up with one good reason why he was there. 

Reading about vampires was one thing. Deliberately seeking them out in their homes was another. Leaning back against the lingering warmth of the brick wall, Xander seriously considered whether he was trying to get himself killed. 

Despite looking for them since spring, he hadn’t actually encountered more than a single vampire at a time since that night at the Bronze. Having finally found what he’d been looking for, what he’d discovered was that he was (A) no wiser and (B) scared to death. Which probably meant he didn’t really want to die. 

Great, and you decide that now? He asked himself sarcastically. You couldn’t have figured this out before you climbed up here?

Drawing his legs up, he rested his face in his folded arms and forced himself to think about what exactly he was looking for. It wasn’t hard, the answer was right there in the question that haunted him waking and sleeping: he wanted to know, once and for all, if he’d murdered Jesse. Even if the answer was yes, it would be better than this limbo he was trapped in. It was the uncertainty that was killing him, that was causing the dreams of Jesse begging Xander to help him, that was trapping Xander in this miasma of guilt and grief that he couldn’t see his way out of. 

Ok, and how exactly is spying on a bunch of vampires you didn’t know before they were vampires going to help you with that?

Put that way, it wasn’t going to help. So, what the hell was he doing here? The books might be confusing and contradictory but at least they wouldn’t get him killed. He didn’t trust Mr. Giles or Buffy to give him straight answers and Angel had refused to help. He knew there were other Watchers, but didn’t have a clue how to find them. Plus, they would probably just give him the same party line that Mr. Giles did. Which pretty much left him back at square one. Square two, he thought, remembering his aborted attempt to talk to the vampire at Jesse’s grave. Well, Mr. Giles still had a lot of books he hadn’t read. Maybe he’d find something in one of them. And at least reading books won’t get me killed or leave me sitting on a catwalk outside a vampire lair in the dark. Xander decided it was way past time for him to get the hell out of Dodge. 

He checked inside the factory again and saw that there were fewer vampires in sight. Moving cautiously, he backtracked to the ladder leading down, grateful it wasn’t near any of the doors. Crouched at the top of the ladder, Xander hesitated for a long minute, checking for any signs of movement. Everything was quiet and he tucked the cross he’d been clutching the entire time back into his pocket and began climbing down slowly, trying to be absolutely silent.

He’d just reached the ground with one foot still on the ladder, when a hand closed on the back of his collar, yanking him off the ladder. He yelped in shock and found himself slammed face first into the brick wall of the factory. The breath whooshed out of him and before he could move he was spun around and slammed into the wall a second time, this time his back taking the impact. Still struggling to get his breath back, he caught his first glimpse of his attacker: yellow eyes and hair that shone white under the streetlamps.

“You’ve got a real death wish, mate.” The vampire cocked his head to one side. “It’s almost interesting.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	6. Chapter 6

Xander froze. For an endless moment, the only thought in his head was: careful what you wish for. Snapping out of his paralysis, he began slowly edging one hand behind himself, trying to be inconspicuous. He managed to pull the cross out of his back pocket and was bringing it up to ward the vampire off when a grip like steel closed around his wrist. The vampire smashed his hand into the brick wall and Xander gasped in pain as the cross fell from his suddenly nerveless fingers. The vampire kicked it further away. 

“Now, now,” he drawled. The vampire’s English accent somehow just added to the unreality of the situation. “It’s not polite to pull a weapon in the middle of a conversation.”

“Is that what this is?” Xander asked hopefully. Conversation sounded so much better than any other option he could think of. He could do talking.

The vampire took half a step back, releasing Xander, who stayed leaning against the wall, willing his legs to stop shaking. “Dunno yet, could be,” the vampire answered, fishing around in his pockets for a moment. Xander briefly considering running like hell but, the second his muscles tensed, the vampire’s eyes flashed back to him and he growled. Xander subsided, knowing he couldn’t outrun the vampire anyway, not with his still trembling muscles. Except for that, he was pretty sure Olympic sprinters wouldn’t be able to catch him if he got the chance to run. He was surprised when the vampire found what he was looking for and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

“You smoke?” he blurted out without thinking. He knew vampires didn’t breathe, could they get anything out of smoking if their lungs didn’t process oxygen?

The vampire just looked at him over the flame of his lighter. “Not like it’s going to kill me.”

The tone didn’t encourage sharing and that was the end of that conversational gambit. The vampire seemed content for the moment to just stand there, smoking and studying Xander. The intensity of his gaze made Xander twitchy but he wasn’t about to complain. He was pretty sure that complaints would lead to seriously bad things he didn’t even want to think about.

“What’s your name?” he finally asked, unable to stay quiet any longer.

If anything, the stare intensified. “Spike.”

“Was that your name when… before you became a vampire?”

“No.”

Before Xander could get another question out, the vampire - what kind of a name was Spike? - had slammed him back against the wall, holding Xander with one hand around his throat. Xander clawed at the fingers restricting his breathing but the vampire just tightened his grip, shaking him a little.

“You seem a little unclear on the pecking order, boy.” It was disconcerting to see the cigarette still dangling from the vampire’s lips. Keeping him pinned obviously took no more effort than it would take for Xander to pin a kitten. Less, he thought resentfully, because a kitten had enough teeth and claws to do at least a little damage. The inhumanly strong grip didn’t ease up until Xander’s struggles had stopped, more from a complete lack of oxygen than acquiescence. Just before he passed out, the vampire released him and he sagged against the wall, barely able to stay standing as he gasped for air.

“What were you doing up there?”

Xander took several more deep breaths while he thought frantically. “I was lost?” he finally said hesitantly. Xander wasn’t sure which would be worse, lying or admitting that he’d been spying on the vampires inside the factory. The rising growl told him that lying wasn’t going down well as did the fact that the vampire grabbed him by the throat again. Ok, it had been a lame-ass try but the lack of oxygen and the fear of impending death had seriously hampered his ability to think of a better story. “I was watching the vampires inside,” he rasped out around the restricting grip. Spots were beginning to swim before his eyes and oxygen was becoming a serious issue again when the vampire eased off. Xander took several whooping breaths, almost missing the vampire’s next question.

“Why?”

When he’d gotten enough breath back to speak again, Xander tried a shrug. “Curiosity?” he offered, really not feeling like sharing the whole story.

The vampire cocked his head. “How long have you been watching them?” 

“A while.”

“How. Long.” A not particularly gentle thump of his head against the wall accompanied each word. 

“About an hour,” Xander admitted.

The vampire gave a short laugh and let go of Xander’s throat. “Not only a death wish but incredibly bad timing. You need a keeper, boy.”

With anyone else, Xander would have snapped something back at that crack. With this guy, he didn’t want to push his luck. He stayed quiet, watching the vampire warily as he gingerly rubbed his throat. 

The vampire began pacing up and down in front of him, just a couple of short steps up and back. Xander debated whether he should go for the stake he carried but given the flickering glances the vampire kept shooting in his direction, he decided against it. He was beginning to have a lot of sympathy for those stupid animals that froze in front of predators, hoping not to be seen. Right now, he felt remarkably like one of them.

The vampire suddenly stopped in front of him and gave him another long stare. Scared to take his eyes off him, Xander just stared back. The vampire leaned closer and Xander would have flinched back except his backside was already trying to become one with the wall. The vampire grabbed a fistful of Xander’s jacket and pulled him forward. Xander resisted, trying unsuccessfully to brace himself against the pull. He pushed hard against the vampire’s chest but the vampire simply grabbed his wrists and forced them behind him. Xander was struggling wildly now but it wasn’t having any effect. The struggle took place in an eerie silence as Xander was terrified of alerting the vampires inside the factory by screaming. One vampire was more than he could handle, he really didn’t need others coming out to see what was going on. The vampire transferred both wrists into one of his hands and grabbed a fistful of Xander’s hair, yanking Xander’s head back, exposing his neck. He dipped his head and Xander felt a tongue rasp along the length of his neck. 

Sheer terror broke his silence. “No!”

With a snarl, the vampire suddenly pushed Xander away from him and he smacked into the wall once again. “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Me!” Xander yelped incredulously. The pain of being smashed into the wall yet again momentarily had anger overriding fear. “I didn’t do anything. I’m the attackee here, nimrod.” His heart was still hammering in his chest and he could hardly believe he wasn’t dead. It suddenly occurred to him that he had been less than diplomatic with the serial killer. “Umm, sorry, cancel the nimrod.”

“Stay away from me, boy, if you know what’s good for you.” The vampire stalked off, coat billowing dramatically behind him. Xander watched him go, stunned and confused by the sudden release and dazed to find himself still alive. 

“Yeah, I could make a dramatic exit too, if I had a really cool leather coat,” he muttered resentfully, wishing his legs would stop shaking so he could get the hell out of there. 

He didn’t realize the vampire had heard him. Spike found his lips twitching at the snarky comment until he realized that he was allowing himself to be amused by a human child. He snarled and stalked past the door to the factory, completely forgetting his original intention of thrashing the idiots inside. Never big on introspection, Spike refused to even consider the question of why he wasn’t going back and simply killing the boy.

He really needed a drink. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

An hour later, staring moodily into his fourth drink, Spike found himself wondering why the hell he had come back to Sunnydale. Oh, he knew why he was here. Dru had told him to come and so here he was, love’s bitch, faithful to the end, still loyally doing whatever Dru said. He just didn’t know what the bloody hell he was supposed to do now that he was here.

Dru’s visions weren’t exactly a reliable guide, after all. Sometimes she was spot on but other times she could be so far off the mark it was downright bizarre. He snorted, downing the drink in one go and signaling the bartender for another round. A bit of fang got the service moving faster, the barkeep hastily splashing an extra measure into his glass. 

After all, it had been one of Dru’s visions that had sent them to Prague. She’d insisted that the stars told her they would only sing to her there, in Prague. And they’d had fun, for several weeks. But there were too many people who believed in the old ways there and Dru had nearly gotten herself torn apart by a mob. Spike had barely been able to save her and they’d had to leave town in a highly undignified fashion that he still didn’t care to think about.

Then Drusilla had gotten sick. Spike hadn’t felt so helpless since he’d been human. Nothing he did helped and she’d gotten steadily weaker; unable to hunt, barely able to feed, fading a little more each day until she was too weak to even leave their bed. She’d lain there for days, skin mottled with bruising, while Spike had raged helplessly. He’d beaten and bribed minions, ordering them to find a cure, promising them the world on a platter if they succeeded and painful, lingering death by torture if they failed. 

And they had failed. They’d researched and sought out witches and seers and they’d gotten nowhere. Drusilla herself had slipped further and further away from him, talking in a frail voice about the things her dolls told her. It had been all Spike could do not to rip Miss Edith to bits, just to stop her talking to Dru, so that maybe Dru would see him as he sat by her side night after night begging her to eat something.

During those desperate days, Drusilla had told Spike he needed to go to the California Hellmouth. She’d insisted his “destiny” awaited him there, whatever the hell that meant. She’d rambled on about the dark energy beneath the books and a wounded kitten and how the flowers all withered and died until he found himself promising her they would go to Sunnydale just so she wouldn’t talk about it anymore. She’d smiled and slept then, and he had gathered her carefully in his arms and held her.

She’d gone silent in her last few days, too weak even to speak anymore. Spike had stayed with her, holding her, trying to coax her into drinking a little, talking to her softly about the fun they would have when she was strong again. Sometimes, he thought a faint smile would cross her lips as he talked to her about the glorious years when they had cut a bloody swath through Europe. And then one morning, he had woken to an armful of dust and his Black Goddess was gone.

He didn’t really remember how he’d gotten to California - he hadn’t been anything approaching sober the entire trip. Somewhere along the way he’d acquired an old car and he had a dim recollection of racing the sunrise across the desert while drinking himself into yet another stupor. He was vaguely surprised to find himself still intact when he’d sobered up enough to discover that he was in southern California and not far from the Hellmouth. 

Having come so far, he kept his promise to Dru. He’d arrived in town earlier this evening not long after sunset and within an hour he’d learned that Angelus was in Sunnydale. Still acting the complete git and apparently panting after the Slayer du jour. Angelus had staked his own Sire over the bint - some 16-year old school girl, still only playing at being the Slayer part time. Spike shook his head. Unbelievable, even for Angelus. 

Unlike most vampires, Spike had very little patience for ritual and traditions, but family had once meant something to him. Staking your own Sire was a bit over the top. His whole clan had become a serious embarrassment. The Master had let himself get killed by a Watcher and his successor was a child so recently turned he still smelled of the dirt from his grave. That child was the current Master of the Hellmouth. 

It was obvious that his destiny was to take over as Master of the Hellmouth. There wasn’t any one else fit for the title and Drusilla had foreseen it. Other than a scattering of minions, he and Angelus were about all that was left of the Aurelius clan and Angelus was barely even a vampire any more.

Signaling for a refill, Spike wondered where the night had gone wrong. He’d learned what he needed to know about the power structure in the town shortly after arriving and had headed over to the factory where the child who called himself The Anointed One held what could laughably be called his Court. Spike shook his head in disgust. His Court. A bunch of vampires so weak they would follow a child with a fancy name. Spike couldn’t see that anointing had done anything for the boy or The Master who’d apparently set such store by the child. 

Circling the building, he’d been disgusted to find the boy king had set no sentries. There’d been no security at all, as evidenced by the fact that a human was spying on them and they hadn’t even noticed. It wasn’t even a professional demon hunter, just a boy with no special skills. That he was just an ordinary boy was obvious from the way he was dressed and his almost complete lack of weapons. When the boy started down the ladder, his movements gave away the fact that he had no training or experience in stealth. He was quiet enough, but a professional would have gotten down from the catwalk in half the time, not to mention would have heard Spike coming as he met the boy at the bottom of the ladder.

The boy had been frightened but surprisingly able to control it and Spike had been curious enough not to kill him immediately. The boy had reeked of grief and loneliness. Fear and anger were also there, adding to the scents wafting off the boy. It was an intoxicating mixture and Spike had found himself inhaling deeply, relishing the mingled scents. He’d looked into dark eyes half covered by thick dark hair and seen the sadness and loneliness living there and for a moment, it had been like looking into Dru’s eyes again.

He’d found himself leaning forward, drinking in the rich, dark scents, had even tasted the boy. Reveling in the taste and scents, he realized that he’d completely forgotten about Drusilla and was considering turning the boy. Considering molding all that loneliness and anger into a perfect, dark Childe.

Revolted, he’d shoved the boy away from him. The last thing he needed was a Childe. He’d loved Drusilla with every fiber of his being, but she had taken a lot of looking after. He was not about to saddle himself with another burden. Still, the boy continued to intrigue him. He found himself wondering what was tormenting the boy and what had driven him to watch vampires in their lair. Regardless of what the boy had said, it was more than mere curiosity that brought him to the factory. The smell of grief had nearly overwhelmed Spike when he’d asked why the boy was there. 

Abruptly slamming back his last drink and tossing some bills onto the bar, Spike left. He needed to concentrate on his promised destiny. It was too late now to follow through with his original plan, so he needed to find a decent crypt for the day. Tomorrow night, he would tackle the Anointed Infant and take over his Court. That was why he was in town, after all.

And if he dreamed of Drusilla’s voice talking about a wounded kitten, well that was just too bloody bad. Dru and her kitten could sod off.


	7. Chapter 7

Willow waved a cheerful paintbrush at Xander. “Hey, there. Step up and grab a brush.” 

On his way home after his last class, Xander gave her painting preparations a dubious look. “Not really feeling the need to let my inner impressionist out. What brings on this sudden yen for creativity?” 

“Principal Snyder. Not so much a yen for creativity as a yen to avoid expulsion.”

“Right.” Xander’s tone was so skeptical that a cynic might have called it sarcastic. “Snyder would give the swim team detention before he expelled you. You bring the whole school’s test scores up.”

“Well, not for me so much as for… others a little more on the edge with him.” 

For once she hadn’t said Buffy’s name, for which Xander was grateful - maybe she really had gotten the message and wasn’t going to keep trying to shove them together like some misplaced National Brotherhood Week project. Giving her a small smile, he looked down at her still blank project. “What’s the occasion requiring of banners?”

Willow began outlining a careful ‘P’ on the banner. “Parent-Teacher night, of course. This Thursday, remember? Aren’t you coming?” She looked up and froze as she saw Xander’s smile die and the now-familiar hardness return to his eyes. Sighing, she set down the paintbrush.

“Xander, you can’t keep doing this.”

“What? Remembering my best friend?” he spat back at her.

“You can’t keep not doing anything that reminds you of him. When was the last time you went to a movie? To the Bronze? Did anything but stay at home and feel sorry for yourself?”

“The last time I went to the Bronze was on Jesse’s birthday.” He needed to stop; Xander knew he needed to walk away before things that couldn’t be forgiven were said but he couldn’t stop the resentment from spilling out of him. “And guess who was there? You were. With Buffy. Having a great time. You didn’t even remember what day it was, did you?”

“I remembered.” Willow’s voice was so quiet Xander could barely hear her. “I’m sorry, Xander, I should have called you. But Buffy wanted to go out before we both left town and it was her last night in town. I knew you wouldn’t want to go with us, you’d made that pretty clear, so I went to the Bronze with her. But I should have called you and I didn’t forget. After I got home, I went through all my photo albums and remembered all our good times together.” Her voice was pleading now and she had tears in her eyes. “I know you think I’ve forgotten Jesse but I haven’t. But I’m not going to shut myself away from everyone or stop making new friends because he’s gone and you shouldn’t either.”

For once, Willow’s tears did not move him. “It’s a hell of a strange way of remembering someone: to never mention his name, never talk about him, and everything we used to do together, you’re now doing with those new friends you like so much. Dammit, Willow, since fourth grade, the only reason you and I ever went to Parent-Teacher night was to run interference for Jesse with his mom. It was an annual tradition, just like our birthdays. And this year, you’re doing it for Buffy, aren’t you? Or are you going to claim your parents are coming this year?” 

“No, I’m not going to say that. But just because I’m helping Buffy out on Parent-Teacher night doesn’t mean I didn’t love Jesse!” Willow’s voice rose with anger.

“It’s a funny kind of friendship when you let someone else replace him ten minutes after he’s dead!”

“Just because I’m not wallowing in his death or using it as an excuse to become a complete jerk, doesn’t make you better than me, Xander Harris!”

“I never said I was better than you, Willow. Just more loyal.”

Stalking off, Xander heard Willow’s running feet and the sound of her tears fading into the distance. His anger didn’t last much longer than the doors of the school, but stubborn pride kept him walking. He wasn’t wallowing in Jesse’s death. Ok, he was having trouble dealing but he’d rather have ‘issues’ about his best friend’s death than be the kind of person who could just compartmentalize their grief and get on with life like nothing had happened. Jesse deserved better than that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Splashing water on her face in the bathroom, Willow reached for paper towels and scrubbed them roughly across her face, trying to erase the signs of tears. How dare Xander accuse her of forgetting Jesse? Just because she didn’t talk about him to spare Buffy’s feelings didn’t mean she hadn’t loved him.

Wadding up the paper towels, she threw them with far more force than necessary into the trash. She was loyal - look how hard she’d been trying to keep her and Xander’s friendship alive. Hey, peacemaker here. She was the one who’d been trying. Not like Mr. ‘I’m more loyal than you’ Harris. 

Ok, yeah, maybe she shouldn’t have called him a jerk, even if he was acting like one.   
But she wasn’t doing anything wrong by having Buffy for a friend. It was Xander who had the problem, not her. 

She practiced a cheerful smile in the mirror and sighed. It looked completely fake. Oh, well, no-one would really expect her to be cheerful about being drafted to do Snyder’s work.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike entered the factory quietly, with none of his usual flair. Ordinarily, he loved a good entrance but he could be inconspicuous when the occasion warranted it. Until he knew exactly how much of the Master’s Court remained and which minions had transferred their loyalty to the Anointed One, a bit of caution was called for.

Except caution obviously wasn’t going to be necessary with this bunch of complete gits. Once again, they had no one on watch outside. No one even challenged him as he walked into the factory’s main room, they were all too busy conducting some ritual to even notice an intruder. 

Spike stood in the center of the room for a full minute watching the minions chant. Oh, bloody hell, they were calling on the spirit of St. Vigeous. Spike shook his head in disbelief. Some wanker gets a bunch of locals worked up into going on a rampage and 400 years later, they’re worshipping him. Sure, Vigeous had made a right proper go of it, but killing peasants in eastern Europe in the 1500’s had been a bit like shooting fish in a barrel. He smirked, if that was all it took to become an icon then in another 400 years they might just be offering prayers to the Scourge of Europe. That would be a bit of all right. Vigeous hadn’t even survived his glory days, unlike the four of them that had earned the Scourge title. 

His smirk faded. Two of them were dust now. Spike didn’t give a rat’s ass about Darla - whiny bitch that she’d been, but by the gods, he’d make sure his Dark Princess was remembered as she deserved.

“You know,” his raised voice sliced through the ritual, bringing it stumbling to a halt, “some people might say that demons who can’t do for themselves without help from a bloke whose been dead for four centuries are demons who’re just a useless lot of nancy-boys.” Enjoying the outraged silence as the vampires all turned to face him, he continued after a bare pause. “In fact, I’m someone who would say that.”

He stood with calm arrogance, thumbs tucked inside his belt, ignoring the rising growls and focused solely on the child in the center of the group. “You’re that Anointed Guy, aren’t you? I’ve read about you.” He sauntered forward with seeming casualness as if he hadn’t just deliberately shoved a stick into a hornets’ nest.

“How dare you interrupt? You have ruined the ritual.” It was one of the minions that spoke up, moving forward threateningly.

“Yeah, I guess I did, but I got so bored standing there, waiting for you idiots to notice me, that I just couldn’t help myself.” Spike kept his eyes on the Anointed One - he was the wild card in the mix and it was possible he had some kind of power that could be a problem. As the speaker approached rapidly, Spike judged his moment from the sound of the footsteps on the concrete floor and, when the minion was almost on him, his fist flashed out at the precisely correct moment and he dropped the other vampire with one clean blow. It always impressed vampires as young as these when you could take someone down without even glancing in their direction. Given that he had been the first to move, the vampire he’d dropped was likely the strongest of them, or at least he’d thought he was.

Stepping over the body without even glancing down, Spike moved forward, still studying the Anointed One. “So, I understand that you’ve had some problems here - losing The Master and all. That’s a bad piece of luck.” His tone gave clear lie to his words. After all, The Master had let himself get dusted by a Watcher. Just showed how much old bat-face had lost it over the years he’d been trapped inside the Hellmouth.

“Who are you?” the child asked.

“Spike.” Still easily dominating the room, he strolled over to the remnants of the ritual circle, tsking mockingly at the incense burners and chalked symbols. Blithely crossing the spell circle’s boundary, knowing it would impress vampires superstitious enough to pray to St. Vigeous, he stopped in the center and pulled out a cigarette. Lighting it, he took a long drag before deliberately dropping the cigarette inside their sacred circle. 

“So, you people thought you’d call on the power of St. Vigeous to get it done, eh? Bollocks. I’ve never felt a rush of sudden power on the Night of St. Vigeous. Never needed that kind of help either.” He looked around scornfully, seeing the vampire he’d decked just now getting to his feet and that the others were off-balance and uncertain. “’Course, it’s obvious you lot need all the help you can get.”

Predictably, two of the youngest charged him, furious and intent on proving how worthy they were. Spike had a stake out and both were small explosions of dust before anyone else had time to move. Insultingly, he put the stake away again. “Sorry about dusting your boys,” he said to the Anointed One, “self defense and all that rot.”

“Now. I’m moving in and I’m taking over.” Shoving his hands into his pockets, he surveyed the remaining vampires. “Anyone who wants to test who has the biggest wrinklies around here, step on up.” 

Not surprisingly, no one took him up on the offer. Good, at least some of them had a sense of self preservation. What was surprising was that the boy wasn’t saying anything. A vampire with any power at all would never let another vampire behave like this in his Court and there was no way the child ruled by physical strength. Which probably meant ‘Anointed One’ just was a fancy, mean-nothing title the boy had been given. Spike had been intending to leave the boy alive for awhile, at least until he had ensured the loyalty of the remaining minions. But the boy hadn’t said a word about Spike interrupting the ritual, which made him too weak to bother about. Besides, he’d never been the patient, long-term plan sort. 

“Oh, one more thing…” The stake was out again and Spike spun around in one fluid move and sank it into the Anointed One’s heart, jerking it back quickly so he didn’t lose the stake in the dusting. The boy didn’t even lift a hand to defend himself, vanishing into dust like any other vampire. So much for Anointing. “Well, two things really.” He threw the stake with swift, deadly accuracy at the vampire who’d first challenged him. No way would that one ever accept Spike as leader of this merry band.

Looking at the stunned remnants of the Court, he said: “From now on, there’s going to be a lot less ritual and a bit more fun around here. Am I clear?” 

The thoroughly cowed minions just nodded. 

“Good.” Spike perched one hip on the edge of the raised seat the Anointed One had been sitting on earlier. “So, what were you all asking St. Vigeous for?”

The minions shuffled their feet for a moment before one of them took a half a step forward. “We were raising power to take out the Slayer on Saturday. Jacob, the one you just killed, he was going to be our champion.”

“Well, that would have been a spectacular fiasco. Too bad I staked him, we could have sold tickets.” Spike stood up and walked around the factory, taking in the layout, entrances, and several obvious vulnerable spots, including the window where the human boy had been spying on them.

“First order of business is a little talk about security. I want a system set up within the hour so we have someone on watch at all times. You -” he pointed to the vampire who’d spoken up about the ritual, “you’re in charge. I don’t like the results, your successor sweeps you up in the morning. Are we clear?”

“Yes.” Spike would keep an eye on that one, he might be a little more intelligent than the others, maybe even worth keeping around. 

“Now people, let’s use our heads for thirty seconds, shall we? If it isn’t too much of a strain for some of you. Are any of you even aware that there are two threats in this town? A Slayer and a 240 year old Master vampire who is helping the Slayer to kill us. Now, who thinks the Slayer is our biggest problem?” He waited, eyebrows raised but no one dared answer.

“You lot aren’t ready to take on a group of pregnant housewives, much less either a Master vampire or a Slayer. Save that for the professionals.” He’d tell them later about the notches in his own belt. “The next couple of nights, those who manage to impress me will get to not be staked through the heart. Those who don’t think they’ll measure up, you’ve got your chance to hit the road now. And I do mean the road out of town.”

With that parting shot, Spike simply strode out of the factory without a backward glance at any of the minions. They needed a chance to talk it over and argue about whether any of them had the guts to challenge him. Most of them would stay, more’s the pity. Useless bunch for the most part. But it wouldn’t hurt to let them sort themselves out on their own. 

As he set off walking, re-learning the town after all the years away, Spike wondered why it hadn’t been as satisfying as he had thought it would be, finally exercising his rights as a Master Vampire. During the years he spent so much time looking after Drusilla, Spike had never really been able to assert the privileges of a Master - too busy caring for Dru to properly rule minions. Even before she’d gotten sick, Dru’s vague spells made her a weak link in vampire power circles. She was too easily used against him, so he had kept the two of them outside the power structures. He’d been strong enough to look after them both for over a century even without family or a Court.

He’d loved Drusilla, but even if he hadn’t loved her, Spike was smart enough to have recognized how useful her visions could be. He’d always understood that a vampire that talked to dolls and stars and sometimes had to be restrained from wandering into the sun didn’t inspire respect in the average minion - they were too short-sighted to understand the usefulness of a seer. Minions and Dru had never been a combination that Spike had tried to make work. And now he was going to learn first hand just how useless most minions were. As if he didn’t already know. What he wouldn’t give to have Drusilla by his side again, healthy and brimming with ideas for terrorizing the locals.

The next few days would be full of boring business: learning which of the minions could fight, finding out who had any useful skills, and weeding out the dead weight. He sighed. Actually taking over the Court had been fun, if way too easy, but now he was feeling like a bureaucrat. Well, he’d just have to put up with it for a couple of days. 

Besides, he needed to decide what to do about Angelus.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Parent-Teacher night found Xander sitting in a diner finishing the second book Mr. Giles had loaned him under their new agreement. This one was easier to read than the first one but so far had done nothing but re-hash the same old theories over and over. It was starting to piss him off. He’d figured that with the librarian guiding him, he would find some answers to his questions but it looked like Mr. Giles was deliberately giving him useless books. Xander hadn’t decided yet if he was going to confront the librarian or just go back to pilfering his books but he was going to do something. Soon. Like as soon as he finished the useless waste of time he was reading. He didn’t want Mr. Giles to be able to argue that he hadn’t finished the book when Xander told him he wanted a better one next time.

He was resolutely not thinking about Willow. Maybe it was stupid to remember a tradition that revolved around keeping Mrs. McNally away from any teacher that had it in for Jesse but it had been a game the three of them had enjoyed for years. Xander had always suspected that Mrs. McNally knew what they were doing but if she had, she’d played along. She’d probably felt bad that neither Xander nor Willow had parents who cared enough to come. 

Visiting Jesse’s grave was the only way he could try to honor their Parent Teacher night tradition. He’d sat in the little park for awhile, talking out loud, reminiscing about some of the crazy things they’d done to keep Jesse’s mom away from one teacher or another. Childish, yeah, but it had been fun. Remembering how close the three of them had been just made him angry all over again that Willow would once more choose Buffy over Xander and Jesse. He knew she didn’t mean it like that but going to Parent-Teacher night without Jesse felt like a betrayal of their friendship. 

Sighing, Xander flipped ahead in the book, seeing there were only a couple of chapters to go. He’d been sitting in this little diner since just before sunset, not wanting to go home or anywhere near the school. It wasn’t much of a place but it was nearly empty so they didn’t mind him sitting here and it was about as far from the school as you could get in Sunnydale. He really wasn’t up to another fight with Willow.

The book was suddenly tweaked out of his hands.

“Hey!” he began and looked up to see a young man settling down on the opposite side of the booth and beginning to flip through the book. The protest died in his throat as he took in the slicked back white hair and black leather duster. He froze. It was the vampire from outside the factory, it had to be. 

Scrambling quickly to his feet, Xander pulled his replacement cross out of his pocket; he’d been too shaken to remember to pick the old one up outside the factory and too nervous to go back for it. Turned out you could buy large crosses in a bunch of different stores in town.

The voice clinched it. “Drovinius’ Vampyre Chronicles, eh? Why’re you reading this twaddle?” He didn’t even look up at Xander, who stood there, clutching his cross, and poised on the brink of flight but reluctant to abandon the book if he didn’t have to. He could just imagine the librarian’s reaction to Xander telling him the book had been stolen by a vampire.

“Why do you say it’s twaddle?” Still nervous, Xander lowered the cross slightly but didn’t put it away. It seemed rude somehow to waive it at the vampire if he wasn’t actively trying to hurt Xander but relaxing his guard would violate his recent decision that he wasn’t suicidal.

“Doubt Drovinius would have known a vampire even if one was draining him. Second and third hand sources, that’s all he used.” The vampire still didn’t look at Xander, keeping his focus on the book.

“You read books on vampires?”

“Had to do something to pass the time before they invented the telly now, didn’t I?” The vampire slapped the book closed and shoved it back to him. Xander hurriedly snatched it up before it tipped his glass over and tucked it safely into his backpack. He was pretty sure coke stains would bring his borrowing privileges to a screeching halt. The vampire seemed completely at ease, stretching out sideways in the booth and pulling out a cigarette. 

“Umm, I don’t think they allow smoking in here,” Xander offered tentatively. 

That got him a flickering look as the vampire lit up. “What are you - The American Cancer Society?”

“No, it’s just…” Not really wanting to explain that he was afraid the vampire would kill the first employee who insisted he stop smoking, Xander gestured lamely towards the No Smoking sign. 

“Don’t really care about their soddin’ rules.” He pointed with his cigarette towards the other side of the booth. “Sit down or clear off, mate.”

“It’s my table,” Xander started to object but realized he really wasn’t prepared to follow through on anything. Not sure why, he found himself sliding back into his side of the booth, still keeping one hand on his backpack and the other on his cross. There was a pause while Xander watched the vampire nervously and the vampire seemed content to just sit there smoking and studying the far wall. No employees came running over to tell him to put his cigarette out, so either the staff was really lax or the aura of danger Xander sensed radiating off the vampire wasn’t his imagination. And wasn’t that a comforting thought.

“What would you recommend?” Xander finally asked.

“For what?”

“To read. You know, since Drovinius is a bad choice.”

“Why are you reading about vampires?”

“Is your name really Spike?”

The vampire looked at him briefly. “Not exactly an answer to my question.”

Xander started to bring up the cross. “Hey, no head thumping necessary. I just couldn’t keep calling you ‘the vampire’ in my head.” He couldn’t leave it alone though. “You said it wasn’t your name when you… before you became a vampire. Do vampires usually change their names after they become vampires?”

“Need a refresher on the pecking order, do we?”

“No! That’s ok, I’m pretty sure I’ve got it. Really sure.” He sighed quietly. The vampire - Spike - obviously wasn’t big on answering questions. Just big on being scary and confusing. There was a long pause during which Xander found himself pretending to study the faux wood grain of the table top while taking frequent wary glances at the vampire. 

“Try Kimmelman. He at least knows what he’s talking about.”

The silence had gone on long enough that Xander jumped a little when the vampire spoke. He opened his mouth but Spike was still talking.

“You planning on being a vampire when you grow up?”

“What?” 

“You one of those gits who moon about; dreaming of becoming a vampire some day?”

“No!”

“Thought not. Most of them don’t bother to learn anything about vampires first.”

“People want to become vampires?” Xander was appalled, but he couldn’t help remembering Jesse talking about how good it felt to be a vampire. Then he hastily added: “No offense.”

“Not likely to take any.” Spike seemed unconcerned by Xander’s insult to his entire… race? Species? He was back to his smoking and staring at the wall thing and Xander wondered if this vampire was somehow different from other vampires and if his luck was really running to finding the one vampire in the world willing to talk to him and that vampire was an atypical weirdo.

“Why are you reading about vampires?” Spike gave him a look that suggested he would not be happy if he didn’t get an answer this time. Xander had already experienced cranky Spike and didn’t want to go there again. But he was not going to talk about Jesse to a vampire.

“Well, I know Sunnydale’s on a Hellmouth so I just figure it’s safer to know.” 

From the suddenly intent stare he got, he wasn’t sure Spike accepted that but all the vampire said was: “How do you know about the Hellmouth?”

Oops. Had he already said too much? Xander didn’t think much of Buffy and her Watcher, but he didn’t want to point vampires in their direction either. “Everybody knows,” he said quickly. 

“Please, last time I was in town you could drain someone in front of their entire family and they would all swear it was an accidental death. It’s one of the attractions of the place - no-one sees anything. Not like Prague…” he stopped abruptly, angrily stubbing his cigarette out on the table.

“Prague?” Xander asked only to flinch back, raising the cross hastily as the vampire suddenly flashed into vamp-face and snarled at him.

“None of your business,” the vampire snapped. In one swift, athletic leap, he was up from the booth and walking away, his features flowing back to human as he stalked out of the diner. 

Xander stared after him for a long time, wondering what that had been about. He had a weird idea that Spike just wanted to talk to someone. Did vampires get lonely? That seemed ridiculous on the face of it but he couldn’t think of anything else that made any more sense. If the vampire wanted information, he was certainly capable of beating it out of Xander or anyone else he chose to. And his questions hadn’t seemed to cover anything that would be useful to anyone, much less a demon up to no good.

Shaking his head, Xander walked over to the counter and asked for hot chocolate. He really needed to settle his nerves before going home. Not to mention giving the manic-depressive vampire time to clear out of the area.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike swore as he walked through the town. He really needed to find something to beat up on. He couldn’t believe he’d gone into the diner when he’d seen the tousled dark head bent over a book. Then he’d sat there and talked to the boy like a teenage girl with a crush. What the hell was wrong with him? Why did the boy call to him the way he did?

He was just out of sorts from spending all his time trying to whip those minions of his into shape, Spike decided. Too much like work for a self-respecting demon. He had NOT noticed that the boy still smelled good, or that his dark eyes still held pain and confusion.

Spike’s feet turned unerringly in the direction of the rowdier of the two demon bars in town. He was going to get good and drunk and thrash everyone in the place. That would take care of these odd, unsettled feelings that had been plaguing him.


	8. Chapter 8

Xander chose his time carefully when he next went to the library. He wanted to be sure to catch the librarian alone and when Buffy and Willow weren’t likely to interrupt. He found Mr. Giles reading in his office and knocked on the door frame. 

“Just returning your book,” he explained, holding it out for the librarian to take. Mr. Giles always looked taken aback when students wandered into the library. Xander wasn’t sure if that said more about the students or the librarian. 

“Oh, yes, thank you.” Mr. Giles took the book and slid it onto the table. He never asked Xander about the books or offered him another until Xander specifically asked. It was painfully obvious he still hated loaning his books out. 

“Do you have Kimmelman’s book?” Xander asked casually like he knew what he was talking about. 

The librarian looked at him sharply, “How do you know about Kimmelman?”

Bingo. The vampire had obviously given him good advice. “Someone recommended it to me.”

“Who? It’s not exactly a book the average high school student would have heard of.” 

“What does it matter? It was recommended, you obviously have it, can I borrow it?”

At Mr. Giles’ hesitation, Xander sighed and leaned against the door of the office. He crossed his arms, subtly blocking the door and trying to look like the proverbial immovable object. “Look, you’ve agreed to loan me books. I haven’t damaged any of them and I’ve returned them all as promised. It’s been pretty obvious that you are only giving me worthless ones, so I did some checking on my own. I’d like to borrow it.” He fixed the librarian with a level stare and was pleased when the librarian looked away first.

“The books are not worthless but it is true that I have not given you any of the more… scholarly accepted books. To be candid, I had hoped your interest would wane.”

“Figured that. Sorry, no waning yet.”

“I’m not sure Kimmelman is appropriate material for a teenager,” Mr. Giles fussed. “Perhaps something…” 

Xander interrupted him before he could suggest another book. “Have you seen any recent movies? I really doubt there is anything in a book I haven’t already seen in Technicolor and surround sound. Your book is not going to either shock me or expose me to naughty material I haven’t already seen elsewhere. I’ll read Anne Rice for that.”

The librarian didn’t seem to know how to respond to that. He sputtered, fiddling with his glasses, then reluctantly stood and moved to the door Xander was still blocking. “It’s in the book cage,” he explained.

Xander grinned and stepped back out of the doorway. Score one for the immovable object, he thought. Maybe now I’ll actually get the straight scoop. He caught himself thinking he would have to find the vampire and thank him, which was insane. Spike was way too volatile to seek out, especially since he still had no idea why the vampire hadn’t killed him during either of their meetings. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike called one of the older minions to him. “It’s Marcus, right?” At the minion’s nod, Spike clapped him on the shoulder and continued. “You look like the type who knows a bit about technology, am I right?” Which was about as polite a way as Spike could come up with of saying that the minion looked like someone had decided to turn an AV nerd. Sadly, he was one of the more useful minions Spike had inherited from the Anointed One so he needed to keep him around for awhile. 

“A little.”

“How are you at running a video camera?” Spike pulled the small camera he’d had someone steal out of his pocket and handed it to Marcus. 

“What do you want me to tape?” Marcus turned the camera over, studying it with what Spike hoped was competence.

“The Slayer.” At the minion’s startled look, he explained. “Oh, don’t worry. I don’t want you to fight her or anythin’. No, the object of tonight’s exercise is for you to survive the mission.” He grinned at the relieved expression on the minion’s face. “I want you to follow her and tape her fights. So I can study her fighting style.” 

Marcus nodded, still examining the camera, and turned to leave. 

“Oh, Marcus…”

“Yes, Spike?”

“Screw this up and you can forget about surviving the mission, understand?”

“Yes, Spike.” 

Spike grinned at Marcus’ hastily departing back. It never took much to intimidate minions. He’d get his tape.

He’d already sent people out to find where Angelus was living. His quasi-Sire was keeping a very low profile in town. Spike had had to resort to having minions keep an eye on the local butcher shops, since Angel wasn’t hunting and didn’t appear to be ordering bagged human from any source Spike could track, but he wasn’t worried, he’d find Angelus sooner or later.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander took one look at the commons area and stopped. Taking a fast step backwards, he turned around, heading anywhere but there. As he turned, he almost ran over Principal Snyder who, in Xander’s opinion, was way too short to sneak up behind people. 

“Mr. Harris, I see you were just about to volunteer for the safety program.”

“Umm, I’m thinking you must be seeing things, Principal Snyder.”

Snyder grabbed Xander’s arm and hauled him around, marching him back towards the sign-up tables in the commons. “Not at all. I’ve had my eye on you, Mr. Harris. Very suspicious the way your grades have suddenly risen. It almost makes me think you might be cheating in some way. This will be just the thing to show me that the change in your grades is due to a new appreciation for school spirit.”

“How about I just go back to flunking all my classes and never doing any homework?” Xander stalled desperately as they reached the table with its sign-up sheets.

Snyder just stood there, clipboard and pen held out, his oversized eyes boring into Xander. There really was something creepy about him, Xander thought. Still, he rallied his immovable object thing that had worked so well on Mr. Giles. “You know the whole volunteering thing? Not really a family tradition.”

“Then this will be a good time to start.” The clipboard poked sharply into Xander’s abdomen. 

Snyder’s immovable object beat his all to hell. “You really need to look up the definition of volunteering. This is a draft.” Reluctantly he took the pen and scrawled his name on the line.

“Congratulations on joining the Army, Mr. Harris. 4:00 sharp and you will be in costume.” He turned away to accost another hapless student and Xander stared after him, appalled.

“Costume? So not happening.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Marcus had actually come up with a half decent tape of the Slayer. True, the git had apparently spent so much time practicing with the camera that he’d let the batteries run down to almost nothing but he’d gotten the bulk of the fight on tape. Spike watched it with Marcus hovering nervously in the background operating the remote for him.

He was moderately impressed with what he saw. The current Slayer was a decent fighter and clever enough to use her environment to her advantage. She wasn’t as intense as the Chinese Slayer, nor as experienced as the New York one, but she had some good moves. 

Spike recognized in hindsight that he’d been lucky with his first Slayer. He’d been young and cocky and in over his head and it was sheer luck that had let him survive the battle. The Slayer had been exhausted when he’d taken her on, the Rebellion having drained her dry even before he did. Some part of her had welcomed death even as she fought him with everything she had left.

The New York Slayer was a different story. When Spike had found himself in the same town as her, the lure of bagging a second Slayer had been too much for him to resist. And it had been a beauty of a fight - she was a mature, deadly fighter who reveled in the nightly battles of her calling. Defeating her had given him more of a rush than his first Slayer, even without draining her. He patted his duster fondly. Plus, she’d given him a great souvenir.

He’d been wise enough even then to know you studied your opponents when they were strong enough to take you down. It was all well and good to wade in unprepared and fueled only by excitement and the desire to prove yourself when you were newly turned, but he wanted to survive to enjoy the status of being the only vampire known to have killed three Slayers. A bit of preparation was called for.

However, it wouldn’t do to let the minions know he was being cautious.

“Run that bit back for me,” he instructed. “Look at that: there, where she throws her stake at him and misses. She’s obviously got no back-up stakes. Poor planning. Look, she’s reduced to using a signpost to stake the poor bastard because she’s got no other weapons. Obviously overconfident and under-prepared. She shouldn’t be too hard to kill. Not like the Slayer I did during the Boxer Rebellion. That girl had weapons coming out of her ears and knew how to use them. This one obviously thinks a single stake is enough.” Spike had made sure the information that he’d already killed two Slayers had spread widely. It never hurt to remind the minions of his reputation and besides, what was the point of killing Slayers if not for the bragging rights?

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rummaging in the basement, Xander smiled again at the thought that Snyder had given him the perfect idea for a costume with that crack about the army. He had a set of fatigues that would do for a costume and somewhere down here there should be a gun of some kind he could carry as a prop. Problem was, so far he’d only come up with futuristic looking ray guns and day-glo water pistols. 

Twenty minutes later, with remnants of his childhood scattered all around him, Xander had forgotten about the toy machine gun he’d been looking for. The box of old toys had opened a treasure trove of memories. Everything he’d picked up had brought a flood of memories of sunny days playing outside and rainy afternoons at Jesse’s and Willow’s houses. The plastic helmet from the year he and Jesse were going to be fireman. The toy stethoscope from Willow’s wanting to be a doctor. Cowboys, policemen, astronauts; at one point or another, they had been going to be all of them. 

Had they ever had a Dracula phase? The fleeting thought jolted him out of his nostalgic mood and he carefully put the plastic dinosaur he’d been holding back into the box. Sighing, he gathered up the toys around him and began putting the rest of them away as well. He was pretty sure that, even if they had played at vampires and Frankenstein, Jesse wouldn’t have wanted things the way they had turned out. 

As he carefully repacked the box, Xander regretted his last argument with Willow. Well, all of them really. They’d been so close once, how had it come to pass that they could barely talk anymore without fighting? He knew Willow thought he was obsessed with Jesse’s death. It still hurt that she’d said he was using it as an excuse. But how wrong was she? He’d admitted privately to himself a long time ago that he was obsessed and had already decided on his own that he needed to pull himself together. How hard would it be to admit it to Willow?

Really hard, especially knowing she would talk it over with Buffy. It was one of the reasons he’d never been able to bring himself to tell her that he’d killed Jesse. He couldn’t bear to hear her repeat that she was glad he was dead. He knew she meant vampire-Jesse, not Jesse-Jesse, but it still tore him apart that she felt that way. 

And that was the 800-pound gorilla in the room - that he couldn’t bring himself to join in with their “all vampires are bad and need to be staked” attitude. Well, all vampires but Angel, he thought resentfully, not for the first time, and found himself smiling bitterly. His attitude towards Angel didn’t help the situation but damned if he was going to change it.

He shook his head, banishing the depressing thoughts. This wasn’t getting him ready for Halloween. Putting the box away behind the furnace, he trudged up the stairs to his room. He’d just go without a gun. The fatigues would be enough of a costume.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander was surprised to find that he was enjoying himself. He’d picked up his group of kids at the high school and given them his best drill sergeant imitation. They’d enjoyed it, falling in line and laughing at his advice about scoring extra candy. His group ranged in age from the youngest who was about five to the oldest who was somewhere around ten. He had a fairy princess, or possibly a butterfly - her costume was cute but obviously home-made and a little fuzzy on intent; a football player; a couple of monsters and a teddy bear. They were ok kids, really getting into the free candy spirit of things and bouncing from house to house without giving him any trouble. The teddy bear had an embarrassing tendency to hold his hand as they walked between houses but eagerly ran up to the door at each house with the other kids while Xander waited at the curb. 

The sun had set and he had given the kids a “five more houses before we quit” warning when a sudden wind picked up. Waiting again at the curb, Xander looked up, wondering if it was going to rain. The sky was still clear but the wind felt somehow ominous, as if it presaged trouble to come. 

A sudden scream from the house jerked his attention back from the sky and he saw three of his kids running away from the house, screaming, and the other two apparently fighting on the porch. Swearing, he ran up to the porch intent on pulling the kids off each other when he skidded to a sudden halt at the foot of the steps. 

Those weren’t his kids. The two…things fighting on the porch weren’t human. Whatever they were, there was a vague resemblance to the costumes his two kids had been wearing, but they were clearly not costumes any more and the two were snarling and tearing at each other with claws and fangs. 

Xander was nearly knocked off his feet by an impact at thigh level. Staggering, he looked down and saw his teddy bear clinging desperately to him and crying hysterically. Scooping the girl into his arms, he looked around. The fairy princess and the football player were clinging together and screaming near the curb. 

Making a snap decision he hoped he wouldn’t regret, he abandoned the two monsters. Telling the teddy bear to hang on, Xander ran to his other two kids, swinging the fairy princess up into his arms and telling the football player to stay close. 

He ran to the house across the street and banged on the door. A white haired man opened it and Xander thrust the princess into the startled man’s arms. “Here, take these kids. Something’s going on and I need to keep them safe for awhile.” His words were punctuated by screams and blaring horns from the street.

Fortunately, the old man seemed familiar with Sunnydale’s weirdness. He didn’t ask any questions, just looked out at the street for a moment, then nodded sharply and opened the door wider. Xander peeled the teddy bear off himself and passed her over to the man, nudging the football player inside as well. The man started to close the door but Xander wedged his shoulder and leg into the opening and stopped him. 

“Whatever is going on, there’s a bunch of little kids caught up in the middle of it. I’m going to gather as many of them as I can and bring them here. I need you to open the door when I get back. Ok?”

“I’ll open the door, son. And I’ll keep these kids and any others safe. What’s your name?”

“Xander.”

“Yell your name when you knock and I’ll open up.”

“Thanks.” 

The man just nodded and ushered the kids further inside. Xander heard him talking to them reassuringly as the door closed behind him.

Looking around, Xander wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or not that his two monsters were no longer on the porch across the street. At least there was no small bodies there, so they probably hadn’t killed each other. The street was filled with both kids and adults who were screaming and running, many of them being chased by a wild variety of creatures belonging to some nightmare world. Like his two monsters, many of the creatures seemed small as if, Xander realized, sickened by the thought, they were kids who had changed somehow, rather than real monsters. 

Well, he hadn’t really intended to attack anything John Wayne style, so the fact that they weren’t real monsters didn’t change things. He wondered if this was a nightmare come true like had happened last spring but didn’t have any way of finding out. Check, he thought, just rescue anyone screaming and figure out what’s going on later. 

Running down to the curb, he grabbed two kids who were cowering behind a tree and started back up to the house. Halfway there, he heard a woman screaming for help and turned. A girl from the high school was running towards him, being chased by two small… somethings. 

“Over here!” he yelled and she veered towards him. “Come on!” He jerked his head towards the door and ran up onto the porch. Kicking at the door, he yelled his name and was relieved when it opened immediately in response. He shoved the two kids inside and told the man to hold it open one more second. Running back, he grabbed the girl’s arm and hauled her inside the house. The homeowner slammed the door behind them in the faces of the two mini-monsters. They pounded on the door and howled and the man managed a grim smile.

“Told my wife it was worth it to put in a metal door. You two ok?”

The girl slid down to the floor, shaking too hard to stand. She was panting, trying to get her breath back. “I was taking kids around and they…changed. They just went crazy and started attacking each other and everybody around them.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much what happened with me, only a couple of my kids didn’t change.” He looked into the living room, and saw that the man had put the kids down in front of the television and turned on cartoons. Probably as good a therapy as any, he thought. 

He peered out the windows by the front door. “Are they gone?”

The man joined him. “Looks like. Isn’t that them?” He pointed towards two creatures moving down the sidewalk. 

“Could be. If you’re ok with it, I’ll go back out and see who else I can find.”

The man smiled at him. “I’ll open the door,” he promised.

~~~~~~~~~~~

From the factory, Spike could hear a rising cacophony in the distance that sang of the kind of chaos he hadn’t seen in ages. He’d been taking the night off, like any self-respecting vampire on Halloween, but this wasn’t a typical sounding Halloween.

Setting his book down, he left his room and headed to the main floor. “Anyone know what’s going on?” he asked the room at large.

No one answered. “Useless bunch,” he grumbled and wandered outside. Halloween was boring but only morons broke the unwritten rule about going out. Spike sometimes wondered if the real reason behind the rule was because no-one took vampires seriously on Halloween. It was deeply embarrassing to have someone poke at your face and compliment you on your costume. Not that it had ever happened to Spike but he had heard horror stories from other vampires who’d ventured out too close to Halloween. No matter how bloody or drawn out the retribution, a vampire just didn’t recover from something like that.

There was a tingle of… something in the night air. Spike stood motionless, his senses straining, trying to figure it out. From the residential areas, he could hear sirens and the faint sound of screaming. Someone or something wasn’t taking the night off.

Deciding to check it out, he headed towards the noise and within a few minutes, he had seen a half dozen demons running wild. The truly weird part was that he didn’t recognize a single species. Spike wasn’t an ignorant minion and it was rare from him to come across a demon he couldn’t identify. Seeing that many in one night was stretching probability to the limit. Something decidedly strange was going on.

He continued to follow where the noise led and soon found himself in the heart of Sunnydale’s residential streets. “This is just…neat.” he said out loud, grinning. He hadn’t seen this kind of chaos since the Boxer Rebellion. Smaller scale true, but the smell of human fear perfumed the night air and made him itch to join in the fun. Obviously, the rules were off for this Halloween.

He wondered if the Hellmouth had broken open. It was the only explanation he could think of for the flood of unrecognizable demons. Reaching out, he snagged a small one and shoved it up against a tree. “So, want to fill me in on what’s going on?”

The little thing snarled and struggled but wasn’t a match for his strength. “Don’t know,” it said. “Found myself here. Good fighting. Lots of prey.”

“You just found yourself here?” Spike released it and was surprised when it didn’t run off. It trotted along beside him as he continued walking and soon he had a collection of small demons following him. They weren’t a threat, so he ignored them. They reminded him of a pack of small kids, partly because of their size but mostly by the way they gravitated around him, like he was the only adult to follow in the dark. Just his luck to be surrounded by escapees from a demon day care.

A familiar voice caught his attention. It had been nearly 50 years since he’d last heard it but he would have recognized it anywhere. Stepping behind a tree, Spike watched as Angelus strode rapidly down the street. He was talking to a teenager in a battered cat costume and oblivious to everything else to the extent that he didn’t even notice Spike watching him. Spike snarled quietly, Angelus should have sensed Spike from this distance. A century ago, he would have. Angelus was obviously not the vampire he used to be.

Angelus was talking about the Slayer. “Buffy would be ok. Whoever she is now, she’s helpless.”

Well, wasn’t that interesting. Spike turned to his little pack of demons. “Did you hear that, my friends? Somewhere out here is the tenderest meat you’ve ever tasted. And all we have to do is find her first.” Even as he spoke, he wondered why learning the Slayer was helpless was so much less significant than his reaction to seeing Angelus again.

The little demons followed him happily as they set off to hunt. 

It hadn’t taken long and in the end, Spike found he was mostly tracking Angelus. He’d caught up with the group even as Angelus swept the Slayer up into his arms and carried her off, the Slayer’s pink dress billowing around him as he hurried through the alley. Spike followed the small group into a storage warehouse and immediately confirmed that something odd had happened to the Slayer. The stench of her mindless terror filled the room and as soon as Angelus set her down, she clung to the dark haired girl in the cat outfit, whimpering. A third girl with long red hair had joined the group but her attention was focused on trying to comfort the Slayer. All of them would keep. 

Spike stepped fully into the room. The redhead yelled a warning and Angelus spun around quickly, only to falter as he saw who it was. “Spike!”

“Angelus!” Spike returned mockingly. With a quick word, Spike ordered the little demons to restrain the three girls and hold them there while he dealt with his erstwhile Sire. 

Angelus growled, moving to protect the girls, but Spike attacked with a rapid flurry of blows that forced Angelus to defend himself. Spike snarled a warning at the little demons, telling them not to sample the merchandise, even as he forced Angelus further away from the three girls.

Angelus was weaker than he should have been. Small wonder, since he wasn’t feeding like a proper vampire. Spike used a pole for leverage, kicking Angelus with both feet in the chest and gut and sending him crashing backwards into the wall. As Angelus fell, Spike felt something rip loose inside himself. “You bastard! She’s DEAD! Gone to dust and it’s all your fault!” 

Fueled by pure fury, he grabbed Angelus by his coat front and hauled him up. Holding him with one hand, Spike punched him over and over, feeling skin split and bones splinter under his fist. Letting his grief and rage pour out of him in a flood until he found he was sobbing and his blows were going wild, no longer connecting with flesh. Spike staggered away from Angelus, hitting the wall and slumping down against it.

“It’s your fault,” he repeated, the fury draining out of him. “She needed her Sire and where were you? Run off and left us, abandoned her when she needed you. Sire’s blood might have cured her but where the hell were you?”

His bitter words filled the silence in the warehouse. Angelus, swaying on his knees, bleeding heavily, had no answer.

“I should kill you. For her. End your miserable existence. You’re not a vampire any more. You’re not one of them,” he gestured contemptuously towards the little group of terrified humans. “But I’m not going to. I’m going to kill your Slayer. So you can watch someone you love die in front of you, helpless to stop it.”

Angelus staggered to his feet. “Spike, no! Leave her out of this.”

Spike sneered at him and ordered the little pack of demons to hold him. “And make sure he’s got a good view.” He grabbed the Slayer’s arm and dragged her into the middle of the warehouse, shoving the girl in the cat suit away when she tried to stop him, sending her stumbling back into the wall where she crumpled to the floor. The Slayer, whatever the hell was wrong with her, was too terrified even to struggle. She didn’t even protest as he dragged her along, unlike the redhead who was dancing around and - disconcertingly - through Spike as she babbled an endless string of protests and pleas. She obviously couldn’t hurt him, so Spike ignored her as best he could, bringing the Slayer out into the center of the room and yanking her head back by what he was fleetingly surprised to find wasn’t a wig, so that her vulnerable throat was exposed. 

He drew the moment out deliberately, caressing her throat, glaring at Angelus, when the terrified mouse in his arms shivered once, then suddenly slammed her elbow into his stomach. Stunned, Spike staggered back and found himself clutching a brown wig. He stared stupidly at it for a second, then over at the pack of confused, crying children standing by Angelus.

“Hi, honey, I’m home,” the Slayer announced brightly and hit him again. Thrown off balance and taken completely by surprise, Spike took several staggeringly hard blows before he could rally himself to fight back. The last one sent him crashing back into the wall. He scrambled ungracefully to his feet, still in shock from the rapid changes, and was confronted by one more surprise. Angelus was restraining the Slayer from attacking him while he was down.

“Buffy! Let him go.”

“Angel! He hurt you,” she protested, but it was obvious she didn’t want to fight against Angelus’ hold for fear of hurting him. Angelus looked over at Spike.

“Leave, Spike. I’m giving you a pass this one time because of Dru. But if you ever come after me or these people again, you’ll be dust before you have time to regret it.”

Spike hesitated then decided that it would be folly to take on both Angelus and the Slayer at once, especially when he still reeling from his own unforeseen emotional outburst. Angelus was hurt but far from beaten, and the Slayer would fight doubly hard to protect him and her friends. For once Spike didn’t feel the need to get the last word in, so he simply turned and strode off into the night. 

And why did he choose that moment to suddenly remember a boy’s voice complaining about not being able to make a dramatic exit because he didn’t have the right coat?

~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander had made a dozen more trips outside, returning each time with one or more kids or teenagers. Several of them had been clawed or bitten and the homeowner, Mr. Olsen, pulled out a big first aid kit and set to work bandaging the refugees who were filling his living room and kitchen. They all had the same story: trick or treating and costumed kids who had suddenly changed. 

On his last trip, Xander had scoured three blocks around the house and found only one kid. That one was perched in a tree and it had taken Xander several minutes to persuade the terrified kid to come down. Most of the monsters seemed to have moved elsewhere, so Xander called it quits and headed back to Mr. Olsen’s house with the last kid clinging to him like a limpet.

Inside their refuge, he collapsed onto a chair with limpet-kid still in his arms and was too tired to protest when the teddy bear and the fairy princess - now thankfully shorn of wings - joined him, climbing into his lap and settling down. 

“So, do we just wait for morning, call the police, or what?”

Mr. Olsen shook his head. “I’ve tried calling several times, the lines are jammed.”

“You up for a slumber party?” Xander asked with a faint smile.

“Let’s wait awhile. The parents of these kids will be scared to death, so if we can get them home safely, that would be best.”

“Yeah, but how will we know when it’s safe?”

“When the police start answering their phones again?” Mary-something from the high school suggested.

“Good idea, Mary,” Mr. Olsen complimented. “Maybe we can suggest that, when this is over, they drive the streets announcing an all clear over a bull horn. Then they can take the responsibility for getting the kids home.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Xander yawned, shifting to find a more comfortable position in his chair of three kids. “You don’t mind if I leave that to you, do you?” 

“Take a nap, son. You’ve earned it. We’ll wake you if we hear anything.”

Two hours later, he did. The police had in fact sent patrol cars up and down the residential streets, broadcasting an all clear. Mr. Olsen filled him in after he had shaken Xander awake. “The official story is that a gang of kids from the next town came here to cause trouble.” Mr. Olsen just shook his head. “Apparently they all had really good costumes,” he added dryly. “We sent the kids home with the police officers. You slept through the whole thing, even when we lifted the kids off of you. Mary went home with the police too.”

Xander looked blearily around at the now empty living room. Blankets and pillows were scattered over the floor and the place was a mess. “You want me to help you clean up?” he offered half-heartedly.

“You’ve done enough, Xander. You’re welcome to stay, I’ve got a spare bed upstairs.”

Xander hauled himself to his feet. “I should probably go home.”

Mr. Olsen nodded. “Yes, I imagine that your parents will be worried about you.” Xander didn’t bother explaining that he doubted his parents would even know he wasn’t home. Besides, there was someone else he was worried about.

“Sorry I can’t drive you home. My eyes aren’t good enough anymore to drive at night.”

“No problem, it’s not far.” He hesitated, then stuck out his hand. “It was good to meet you, Mr. Olsen. Despite the circumstances.”

“You too, son. Stop by anytime.”

“I’ll do that.” Xander said, meaning it. They shook again, awkwardly, then Xander gave him a half wave and left. Glancing at the clock on his way out the door, he was surprised to find it wasn’t even 11:00 yet. It felt much later.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike kept walking, striding through the residential neighborhoods, peripherally aware of the police starting to clean up the mess from the earlier chaos, but mostly lost in his own dark thoughts.

The force of his rage against Angelus had surprised him. He hadn’t realized how much he blamed Angelus for Drusilla’s death until he had seen the smug bastard and it had simply poured out of him in an unstoppable flood. Angelus was concerned for his precious Slayer but not for his Childe. Not for any of his Childer. Angelus was more Sire to Spike than Drusilla had ever been. Dru had been lover and companion, but not Sire. Angelus had taken on that role, molding and tempering the reckless young vampire. Often brutally, but that was the vampire way. Spike had competed with him, fought with him, and re-made himself to meet Angelus’ expectations. He had raged against Angelus when he abandoned them but the biggest injury had been Dru’s aching loneliness for her “Daddy”. A longing that had never left her, even when dying. And Spike had resented Angelus’ hold on Dru with a passion that had erupted like a volcano tonight.

For that had been at least part of his out-of-control fury: that no matter how much he tried, Drusilla had always loved “Daddy” more. Spike had never come first with her. He’d loved Dru with everything he had and it hadn’t been enough.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Standing outside Willow’s room, Xander stood far enough away so that he couldn’t be seen and watched Willow through the blinds. Willow had always liked them left open, even at night. She’d said it made her feel claustrophobic to have them shut. 

He had hesitated for a long time, wondering whether he should knock but he mostly just wanted to know that she was alright. He’d seen her name on Snyder’s sign-up sheet, although he hadn’t caught more than a glimpse of her at the high school. He’d known it was her under the ghost costume from the way she walked and her expressive gestures.

He could see her lying on the bed talking on the phone, and for now, that was enough. She didn’t look injured and she was talking animatedly, probably to Buffy. Watching her through the blinds, Xander wished there was a way they could go back. Jesse’s death had thrown up a wall between them when it should have brought them closer together. There had to be some part of her life that didn’t involve Buffy and Giles that he could still fit into.

He wondered again if he should knock but he was tired and not up to the kind of emotional talk they really needed to have. Turning to go, Xander promised himself that he would talk to her as soon as he could get her alone for awhile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Still restlessly walking the town, Spike glimpsed a familiar figure ahead of him and found himself following. The boy looked tired: walking slowly, head down, shoulders slumped, his hands thrust deep in his pockets. He turned up the walk to a small house and Spike realized it must be his home. 

The house was a bit less well kept than most of the houses on the block. The lawn was neglected and weed-choked, the trim in serious need of new paint. His boy let himself in and Spike heard him say: “Hi, mom, are you guys all right?”

“Quiet, Xander, your father’s in bed already. Of course we’re all right, why wouldn’t we be?”

“No reason, mom. Good night.”

Spike watched until a light went on upstairs, then turned and headed back to the factory, his stride a bit firmer than it had been. Xander, so that was his boy’s name.

He was a block away before it hit him. Just when the bloody hell did I start thinking of the boy as mine?

~~~~~~~~~~~~


	9. Chapter 9

Xander was in his usual lunch spot reading the Kimmelman book, Observations on Vampires. Since only Seniors were allowed to leave the school grounds during the day, he had found a secluded spot under a tree near the edge of the grounds where he usually sat and read while eating lunch. People rarely disturbed him there, so he was surprised when someone cleared their throat nearby. 

Looking up, he saw the girl, Mary, from Halloween night. “Xander, right?”

He nodded, closing the book and marking his page.

“I didn’t get a chance the other night, but I wanted to say thank you.”

He didn’t know what to say. “Oh, umm, that’s ok. Glad to help.”

Mary sat down. “Seriously, I think what you did was incredibly brave.”

Xander was sure his face was bright red. “Not really, more like stupid. I mean, not stupid because I helped you, but stupid because I think I was just too dumb to be scared… Ok, I’m just going to shut up now.”

Mary was smiling at him but in a friendly way, not like she was laughing at him for displaying incredible social ineptitude. He settled for just smiling back at her.

“Anyway, I didn’t want to bother you, I just wanted you to know that I’m really grateful for what you did for me and for all the others. So, thanks.”

“You’re welcome. I’d say anytime but I really hope that nothing like that happens again.”

“Yeah, let’s hope not.” Mary got to her feet and stood for a moment a little awkwardly, brushing dirt off her backside. “I’ll see you around.”

He just smiled again and nodded and Mary walked off. Xander watched her for a moment, a little bemused. It was surprising that she acknowledged what had happened. So many people in Sunnydale repressed things so fast it made his head spin. He’d overheard several people discussing the “gang” that had messed up Halloween, one guy had even claimed he knew one of the kids involved and that the kid had been arrested by the police. Xander sometimes wondered if he had been that blind before his eyes had been forcibly opened to the reality of the Hellmouth. He hoped not. 

The one good thing was that the same blindness had let him ask about his two kids who’d changed that night. He’d had nightmares about them all night but he had no idea of their names or addresses and no way of checking on them. Fortunately, the school had kept records of which kids had gone out with which student. He’d been outside the administration office when they’d unlocked the doors this morning and had been able to persuade - ok, badger - the front desk staff into checking on his two missing kids. He’d told them the kids had been chased off by the “gang members” and the staff had finally agreed to call their parents. He’d made it pretty clear he wasn’t leaving until they did make the calls for him. Finally, someone had pulled the lists and made the two calls and confirmed that his two kids had been found and had eventually gotten home safely. Learning that the kids he’d abandoned were all right had filled Xander with such relief that he’d had to cling to the counter for a moment until his legs steadied. Even after rehashing it in his dreams all night, he still didn’t know how else he could have handled the situation and was just grateful it had turned out all right. 

He’d thanked the staff profusely and guessed that they had finally decided he had good intentions because they gave him a note for his first period teacher. Walking through the empty halls on his way to class, Xander wondered if little kids were as good at repressing as the adults in town, but anything they remembered was probably being dismissed by their parents as Halloween fantasies. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander watched Buffy walk off hand in hand with a boy he’d never seen before, leaving Willow sitting by herself. It was the chance he’d been waiting for. He walked over and sat down in a chair diagonally across from Willow. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

After a brief, awkward pause, Xander started. “I went by your house on Halloween. I knew you’d been out with a group of kids and I was really glad you were ok.” Willow opened her mouth but he hurried on. “I didn’t knock, I just looked in and I could see you were all right.” Willow looked surprised and pleased and Xander took a deep breath and continued.

“Willow, we’ve been friends since kindergarten. Isn’t there some way we can find a way to still be friends? Maybe we can agree not to talk about vampires and demons and Buffy and Mr. Giles. After all, we were friends for years without any of them in our lives.”

“I don’t know if it’s that simple, Xander.”

“I know, but don’t you think it’s worth the try? On Halloween, I couldn’t even think about going home until I knew you were ok. Yeah, things haven’t been right between us for a long time now but I still care about you, a lot. I mean if you suddenly took up, say the marching band or something, it wouldn’t end our friendship. We just wouldn’t talk about it because you’d get mad when I mocked your uniform and stuff. Ok, that’s probably a bad example, but you see what I’m getting at.”

“I’ve really missed you too, Xander. But every time we talk, it feels like you’re mad at me.”

“I have been mad at you, Willow.” Xander knew they couldn’t do this without being truthful. “It’s felt to me like you just forgot Jesse and that really made me angry.” He held up a hand to stop her. “I’m not saying I’m right, just that that’s how it feels to me. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about it over the last few days, and I guess I haven’t ever really given you a chance to explain.”

“That’s right, you haven’t. Xander, I loved Jesse and I miss him a lot, but it’s been really unhealthy the way you’ve been obsessing over his death.” It was her turn to stop Xander from interrupting. “No, I let you have your say, you need to let me finish.”

Xander closed his mouth reluctantly and nodded. “You have been obsessing, Xander and Jesse wouldn’t have wanted that. He wouldn’t have wanted you to shut yourself off from everyone the way you’ve been doing.” Xander didn’t have an answer to that, he knew it was true. It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought it often enough himself. 

After a short pause, Willow continued. “The other problem is that we can’t ever really go back. We know about Sunnydale and demons and the Hellmouth, and that’s changed things. I don’t want to be one of those people who pretend nothing happened or just accept the official explanations, no matter how lame. Did you know they are actually trying to blame what happened at Halloween on kids from another town? And people are accepting it. I can’t decide if it makes me more angry or sorry for them.”

“Willow…”

“No, Xander, let me finish. Buffy’s my best friend and I like helping her. It’s important. I mean, we help save people and we’ve even prevented an apocalypse. I’m not going to turn my back on that, not even for you.”

Xander was hanging on to his temper by a thread at this point. Had Willow always been this much of a know-it-all? Involuntarily he smiled. Well, yes, but formerly it had only been about school and stuff that she really did know better than he and Jesse had. He ignored the pang at hearing her call Buffy her best friend. He had difficulty describing his current relationship with Willow as friendship, so it wasn’t fair to hold that against her. “I’m not asking you to turn your back on it, Willow. Despite what you think, I’m not ignoring it either, I’m just dealing with it differently than you are. Can’t we find a way to still be friends without all of this stuff interfering?”

“It’s pretty important stuff, Xander. And to be honest, it makes me wonder if I ever really knew you when you aren’t willing to help us. The Xander I thought I knew would have been right there with us, helping people this whole time.” Willow’s eyes were sad but unflinching as she spoke. 

Xander needed to leave, because the last thread had just snapped. “There’s more than just Buffy’s way of helping, Willow. I’m not asking you to give up saving the world. I’m just saying we could still be friends outside of that.” He got to his feet abruptly. “Think about it. I’ll see you around.” 

He left before his temper completely boiled over. The conversation hadn’t gone as he’d hoped, but then not much had in the last eight months. He wished he could blame it all on Buffy’s influence but Willow always did have a tendency to be a bit self-righteous. It hadn’t really bothered him when it was over things like schoolwork and the merits of science fiction movies but it was a lot harder to take when she was so obviously lumping him in with the deaf, dumb and blind of the town. 

And how exactly did keeping Buffy’s identity as the Slayer secret help things? 

His stride lengthened as his angry thoughts continued. Wouldn’t it be better if she did some sort of show and tell and staked a vampire in front of people? Maybe teach vampire self-defense courses or something. How many of the people in town carried crosses? Even a rudimentary knowledge would help stave off some attacks and make the town at least a little less vampire-friendly. 

He probably couldn’t blame Buffy for that. Hadn’t Spike said that the town had been just as ignorant and blind the last time he was here? Maybe it was something about the Hellmouth itself. Xander remembered how difficult it had been for him to accept that vampires were real, even after he’d seen one staked. He hadn’t really believed until he’d tasted Jesse’s ashes on his lips and there were a lot of days when he wished he could forget the whole thing.

Lost in his thoughts, Xander hadn’t even noticed where he was going. Glancing at the hall clock, he groaned. He was at the opposite end of the school from his next class and would have to run to make it on time. As he broke into a run, dodging other students, he was almost grateful for the activity. It was hard to think while broken field running, maybe that’s why so many of the jocks seemed to be complete morons.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike looked up at the sound of a minor scuffle by the door. Lucius was dragging in a dark haired boy, who was struggling and complaining.

“What’s this? I don’t remember ordering take out.” 

Lucius grinned, “he asked to be taken to our leader.”

“Please tell me you’re making that up.”

“He’s not, that’s what I said.” The boy squirmed a little so that he was looking at Spike. “I know who you are.”

“Yeah, I know who I am, too. So what?” The boy smelled… off, a sour unpleasant taint of sickness and medications overriding the smell of fear and excitement.

“I came looking for you, Spike. You are Spike, right? William the Bloody?” 

“Don’t forget Slayer of Slayers, I’m particularly fond of that one. So, how did you find me?” He signaled Lucius to let the boy go, he was obviously no threat.

The boy straightened up, rubbing the back of his head where Lucius had been gripping him. “That doesn't matter. I've got something to offer you.” Spike just looked at him and the boy hurried on. “I-I'm pretty sure this is the part where you take out a watch and say I've got thirty seconds to convince you not to kill me.” He smiled eagerly, “It's traditional.” 

Spike couldn’t believe his ears. He took a rapid stride forward and grabbed the boy by the ear, twisting his head sideways, pleased that the gasp of pain took the smile off the boy’s face. “Well, I don't go much for tradition. And I doubt you have anything I’d be interested in.” He tightened his grip. “Either tell me your little plan now or die, those are your options.” 

The boy was struggling in his hold now, tears of pain filling his eyes. The smell of his fear peaked sharply, increasing the unpleasant odor of sickness. “I wanna be like you. A vampire,” he gasped out.

“I've known you for two minutes and I can't stand you. I don't really feature you livin' forever.” Spike reached up with his other hand and cleanly snapped the boy’s neck. Dropping the body, he looked over at Lucius. “Get this out of here, don’t want him stinking up the lair.”

Lucius bent down and heaved the body up over his shoulder. Spike stopped him, “Good work, Lucius. When a human comes here looking for me specifically, I don’t mind taking a minute to deal with them personally. Gives a bit of interest to the day. Too bad this one was such a prat.” Spike hesitated, refusing to think about why he was doing this. “Pass the word along to the others, right?”

Lucius nodded, looking a bit confused, but Spike simply shooed him off. He hadn’t killed the dark haired boy because he was disappointed it wasn’t another human. He just hadn’t liked the way this one smelled, that was all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander slipped out the basement door as the argument reached a crescendo. He’d seen this coming from the moment his father had gotten home already half drunk and had headed straight for the liquor cabinet. Xander had been quietly making himself a sandwich when his father announced that he’d quit his lousy job and told his boss to shove it. 

Dad always quit his jobs. Tony Harris was never fired, to hear him tell it. Xander grabbed the sandwich and a can of soda and went down the stairs to the basement. His parents were usually too focused on each other during these fights to notice him but he had learned the hard way a long time ago that calling attention to himself when his parents were fighting was not good. 

The sun was setting as he finished his sandwich, sitting on the curb a couple of blocks from his house. He’d been three houses away before the last faint sound of yelling had died completely but he’d kept walking until he was on a street where he didn’t know anyone well. It really embarrassed him that his parents cut loose the way they did. Fortunately, they usually only got really bad once or twice a year. His dad usually managed to hang on to his jobs for about six months and his “quitting” was the reason for most of their fights, although they did have some doozies around the holidays.

Finishing his soda, Xander realized that he hadn’t planned for this. His parents’ last big fight had been before Jesse died and he’d spent the night at Jesse’s that night, like he usually did. He knew that Willow would let him in if he asked, but nothing had really been settled after their talk and he just couldn’t ask a big favor of her while things were so wrong between them. He considered asking Mr. Olsen but that would involve explaining why he needed a place to stay and that would be humiliating. 

Well, sitting here all night wasn’t going to happen. Climbing to his feet, he wondered if any of the little restaurants in town were open all night. That was a possibility. He tossed the can away and set off to check out his options. 

His feet betrayed him. They took him unerringly to Jesse’s grave but that was fine. He hadn’t been stopping by as often recently, so he settled down for awhile to bring Jesse up to speed on the most recent events. He was telling Jesse about the unbelievably lame official explanation for the events Halloween night, blaming a gang from a neighboring town, and joking about which of their neighbors should take the rap, when a voice interrupted him, nearly scaring him out of his skin.

“Bollocks. Someone did a spell.”

Xander leapt to his feet, his heart hammering, and stared at the vampire sprawled on the little bench nearby. “Don’t do that! You scared the crap out of me!”

~~~~~

Spike grinned unrepentantly. “Vampire, pet. Scaring humans is what we do.” He’d been out walking when the sound of a voice talking quietly in this usually deserted area of town had drawn him. As he got closer, he’d recognized Xander’s voice. His boy was so preoccupied, he hadn’t noticed Spike even when he’d sat down on the bench and listened. Now he cocked his head curiously at the boy. “Talking to yourself, are you? That’s generally not a good sign.”

“I was talking to a friend.” Xander explained reluctantly. 

“No one here but us. So, where’s this friend?” Spike was unprepared for the wave of grief that followed his question. The boy looked away and Spike could smell the salt of tears.

“He’s dead.” The reply was muffled.

“Mmm. Sorry and all that. Lost someone myself recently.” Spike couldn’t believe he’d said that but was pleased when Xander looked back at him, eyes tear-bright but cheeks dry.

“I’m sorry.”

Spike waved away the sympathy. “What’s so special about this place?” He noticed that Xander’s eyes kept tracking to a particular spot on the scraggly grass and heard the evasion in the boy’s voice as he shrugged.

“We used to come here when we were kids.”

Silence fell and Spike was considering leaving when Xander spoke again, his voice barely audible. “I buried him here.” He looked up at Spike and his eyes were filled with pain. “I brought his ashes here after I staked him.”

Spike’s eyebrows rose. “Your friend was a vampire?”

“He was when I killed him.”

That made more sense and several other facts suddenly clicked into place. “That’s why you’re reading those books, innit? Why you were at the factory that night?”

“Yeah. Stupid, I know, but I wanted to learn more about vampires.”

“Why? For most humans, it’s pretty simple - a sharp piece of wood and a pile of dust. That’s all most humans care about.”

Xander was staring at him now, dark eyes burning intently as they bored into Spike. “When someone becomes a vampire, does part of that person survive?”

“Well, that’s the eternal question, pet. As many answers to that one as there are people to ask.”

“What’s your answer?” The boy’s voice held an edge of desperation, as if Spike was his last hope.

“I’m not human, boy. I’m a demon.” Xander’s stare didn’t waver, he seemed to be trying to will the truth out of Spike and Spike found himself continuing. “But I remember being human. I remember my family and I remember dying. Just don’t know if that was me or not.”

Xander surprised him by sitting back down on the grass. It was the first time the boy had looked even slightly relaxed in his presence. He drew his knees up and rested his chin on them, his eyes going back to that spot in the grass. “Does your demon have memories from before you were a vampire?”

Spike had never thought about that before. It was an interesting question; the boy had clearly been thinking about this a lot. “No. The demon just… is.” He knew that was far from clear, but he couldn’t really explain it better than that - the way the demon existed in the here and now, no conscience, no regrets, no remorse - and he wasn’t sure he wanted to go into it any further. He couldn’t believe he’d let himself get drawn into this conversation to begin with, but the smell of grief had subsided and Xander was obviously mulling over his words. 

“Of course, my Sire would be the first to tell you that I’m not a normal vampire,” he said sarcastically, wanting to change the subject. The boy surprised him again by grinning at him in understanding.

“Yeah, my dad is a complete jerk too.”

Spike smiled at that. “Yeah, that fits Angelus to a T. ‘Course I usually call him things like ‘wanker’ or ‘git’.”

“You English have the weirdest… Angelus? Do you mean Angel? Angel is your dad?”

“Sire,” Spike corrected. “You know Captain Hair Gel?”

Xander gave him a quick, delighted smile at the description. “I don’t really know him. He’s kind of dating someone I know and I’ve met him once or twice. We didn’t get along.”

“Knew there was something about you I liked.” At Xander’s startled look, Spike continued, “Anyone who hates Angelus can’t be all bad.” He considered Xander’s words. “You know the Slayer? Or is Angelus cheating on her?” He almost hoped it was the latter, that would be sweet.

“A little bit. She’s friends with a…friend of mine.”

Spike heard the brief hesitation and wondered what caused it. “So, why are you here talking to a vampire? Slayers are usually pretty single-minded about what to do with vampires.”

“Noticed that. I don’t really get along with her.” Xander was beginning to shift a little, clearly uneasy with talking about people he knew. “Hey, thanks for recommending Kimmelman. It’s way better than the last two vampire books I read.”

Spike went along with the change in subject. “Yeah, Kimmelman has some idea of what he’s talking about. Rumor was he was part demon.” 

“Really? Wow. Or are you just saying that because humans can’t know about the mystery that is vampires?” The boy was smiling, laughter in his eyes for the first time since Spike had met him.

“Well, it’s true - we are superior.”

“Please. You guys may have the cool super-strength thing but jeez, no garlic bread, no beach parties, no matinees at the movie theater, and I’ll bet you’re afraid of picket fences.”

“Strength, speed, reflexes, and immortality.” Spike countered, bizarrely enjoying the exchange.

“Yeah, immortal as long as…” the boy’s voice faltered and his eyes darkened with sorrow again as they went back to that spot.

After a short, awkward silence, Spike said quietly: “Don’t fret yourself over killing your mate. The demon wouldn’t be worried about it if it had killed you.” He didn’t add that a fledge as young as Xander’s friend had probably been did sometimes retain ties to their human friends and family. He was unliving proof of that.

Xander sighed, obviously still troubled, and got to his feet. “I should go,” he said.

“I’ll walk you home,” Spike was surprised to find himself offering. “Strength, speed, much better at getting home safely,” he added quickly.

“Umm, that’s all right, I’m good.” Xander said desperately.

Spike cocked his head. The boy was embarrassed, not afraid. “Come on.” He set off walking towards Xander’s house, with the boy trailing after him, sputtering excuses.  
Spike just kept walking. 

They were a couple of blocks from the boy’s house when Xander finally explained the problem. “Spike? My parents were kind of having this big fight, that’s why I’m outside so late. I’m really not up for walking back in on it.”

Spike stopped. The boy was looking down, obviously humiliated at having to explain. “How long ago did you leave your house?” he asked.

“What? Oh, umm, a couple of hours, I guess.”

“Do you really think they’re still fighting? Most humans haven’t got that kind of stamina. They get tired, their voices go, someone goes to bed and someone falls asleep on the couch.”

“Oh.” Xander obviously hadn’t ever thought about it. He’d probably never tried to come back before morning before. Spike wondered why he was so sure that this wasn’t the first time Xander had fled his house and repressed a growl, not wanting to scare the boy.

“Tell you what. We’ll swing by the house for a look-see and take it from there.”

“Ok.” 

As predicted, the house was dark and quiet. “See, humans have no stamina.” 

Xander gave him a relieved smile. “Thanks, Spike. Ummm, see you around?”

“Yeah, small town and all that.” Spike strode off without waiting to see if Xander got inside. If he listened for the door quietly opening and closing, that was no one’s business but his own.


	10. Chapter 10

It had been a tense week in the factory. The minions were fearful and staying close to home as the Slayer had been on a rampage, tearing the town apart looking for some friend of hers who’d vanished. Her usual patrol style was focused on the cemeteries, keeping an eye out for newly turned fledges who had just risen and only occasionally impacting on older vampires. But this past week, she’d been seen all over town: asking questions at Willy’s bar and seeking out demon haunts. She was reportedly in a stake-happy mood and most vampires were lying low. 

From the description the Slayer was passing around, she was probably looking for the sick boy that Spike had killed at the factory. Spike made a mental note to ask Lucius what he’d done with the body since the Slayer obviously hadn’t stumbled over it yet. At least he had one minion smart enough not to simply dump bodies outside the front door. It amused Spike no end that a friend of the Slayer’s had wanted to become a vampire. If he’d known the prat was the Slayer’s friend, he might have turned the boy just for the laugh. He’d have to tell the Slayer about it some day. But not just yet. A Slayer wasn’t prey - they were adversaries, fellow hunters, and it wasn’t smart to tackle them when they were fired up and at their peak. Spike would deal with her in his own time. 

Angelus was a different matter. Spike had been spending a lot of time considering what to do about his Sire. He was surprised that Angelus hadn’t sought him out after their fight on Halloween. The old Angelus would have beaten Spike within an inch of his unlife for what Spike had done to him on Halloween. It was just another reminder that his Sire had changed almost beyond recognition.

Angelus’ unspoken message that night had been that Spike should leave, not just the warehouse they’d been in, but leave town altogether. That wasn’t going to happen. It wasn’t just because Dru had told him his destiny awaited him in Sunnydale or even that, as Master of the Hellmouth, he had a stake here now. It was more that Spike had spent much of his unlife not doing what Angelus wanted. It was the principal of the thing. 

But right now, he had a different problem. He scowled at the minion in front of him who’d just admitted that she was the one who had told the sick boy about Spike and the factory. Apparently the boy had gotten the jump on her and threatened the information out of her. Unbelievable.

“But you said that it was ok if a human asked about you.” The minion was confused, she’d obviously thought he would be pleased to learn that she had told a human about the lair. 

“I meant someone who already knew me, you moron. Not giving anyone who wants one a backstage pass just because they ask nicely.” Not giving her time to try and justify her cowardice further, Spike snapped her neck. As she fell with a cry of pain, he looked around at the other minions watching warily. “Someone stake her and sweep up the mess,” he ordered impatiently. 

He really needed to do something about the quality of his minions.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander found himself walking the streets of Sunnydale in the early evening hours more and more often. His dad wasn’t in a hurry to find a new job and that meant Xander was avoiding going home as much as possible. Like tonight. 

He’d gone to visit Mr. Olsen after school, something he’d taken to doing every once in awhile. He’d originally gone back to see Mr. Olsen not long after Halloween, mostly wanting to thank the man again for letting all of them take refuge in his house and for being so good with the kids. Mr. Olsen had seemed pleased to see him and they’d talked for a lot longer than Xander had intended. Not having ever really had much contact with anyone that age, Xander had been surprised to find that he really liked the old man: he was smart and funny and easy to talk to and he didn’t try to pretend that they were the same age. Xander had thought wistfully more than once that Mr. Olsen would have been a cool grandfather to have. He’d met Mrs. Olsen and both of them seemed to be comfortable with their age and their lives and each other in a way that few people Xander had ever known seemed to be.

Walking home, Xander thought about the Olsens. It was really great to talk to someone without the tension that had characterized all of his recent conversations with Willow. Sighing, Xander thought about the fact that he didn’t really have any friends right now. He really wasn’t the loner type, things had just worked out that way recently. He was pulled from his depressing thoughts by an uneasy feeling and he gradually became aware that someone was following him. He turned suddenly, his hand going to his cross, and saw that Spike was walking a few paces behind him. 

“That’s better. You heard me this time. Not a good town to walk through at night without paying attention.”

“I get that. You never know who might be stalking you.”

Spike smirked and sauntered towards him. “You always go for your cross first, not your stake. Why is that?”

Xander shrugged. “If I can drive them off, why should I kill them?”

Spike seemed to be considering that and they both started walking again in silence. They were coming up on a coffee shop and Xander asked impulsively: “Do you want to sit for a minute?” Spike stared at him and he added hurriedly, “It’s just I’m not really ready to go home yet.”

Just as Xander was beginning to think he’d somehow offended the vampire, Spike shrugged and turned into the restaurant. Xander hesitated, then followed him in, wondering what he’d been thinking. Spike sprawled into a booth with his usual careless grace and Xander slid in on the opposite side. “Umm, do vampires drink things besides blood?” Really, it was ridiculous that none of the books he’d read addressed basic issues like that, he thought with a twinge of desperation.

“Some do, some don’t. I like a bit of hot cocoa now and then.”

“Hey, me too.” Xander brightened and put in the order as the waitress appeared. 

They sat silently, Xander envying Spike’s air of complete self-possession and doing his best to stop himself from fidgeting uneasily. The vampire simply studied the small restaurant and the few patrons with a critical eye and obviously didn’t feel the need to make small talk.

After the waitress brought their hot chocolate, Xander occupied himself with stirring it and carefully testing how hot it was, working up the nerve to ask something that he’d been thinking about since the last time he and Spike had talked. 

“The other night, you said you’d lost someone too. Do…do you mind if I ask who?”

“Dunno. Not really any of your business.” There was a long pause, during which Spike seemed to be studying something intently on the far wall. Xander waited, because it seemed like the vampire was considering whether to answer. When Spike spoke again his voice was quiet and even his accent had softened. “But my Dru, she should be remembered.” Spike looked over at Xander briefly. “Drusilla, my dark princess,” he said simply. Xander’s gaze didn’t waver and his eyes were sympathetic. Spike turned his own eyes back to the wall and the past. 

“She was beautiful: dark hair and black eyes. For a hundred years, we loved, and played, and wreaked havoc across Europe. She was insane,” a fond smile curved his mouth, softer than his usual smirk, “completely mad and it made her unpredictable and exciting. Always had a lark planned she did; things were never dull with Dru.” 

Lost in his reminisces, Spike didn’t notice that Xander was both fascinated and appalled, hardly daring to breathe in case the unusual willingness to talk faded. “She reveled in being a vampire. We’d go to clubs and dance - Dru loved to dance. We’d find partners and Drusilla loved to drink from her partners on the dance floor, just a little and so quiet no one would notice. Said she could see the music all around her with the blood singing in her veins.” Spike’s voice died as the memories overwhelmed him. 

After a long pause, Xander asked curiously, “Do all vampires date, fall in love, pair up like that?”

Spike’s eyes snapped back into the present and he turned a mocking look on Xander. “How many humans do?”

“Depends on what you call love, I guess.” He shrugged, looking down at his hands. “I’m probably not the best person to ask about that.” After a moment, he looked up again and asked curiously: “Is love the same for vampires as for humans?”

Spike gave him a wicked leer. “Needing some help with the mechanics, pet?”

“No! Major experience here. I meant emotionally, dimwit.”

“I’d rather hear about that ‘major experience’ of yours.”

Xander blushed and tried for affronted dignity. “A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.” 

“Right.”

Yeah, that affronted dignity thing had gone over real well. Trying to figure out where the conversation had gone sideways on him, Xander realized he hadn’t had a rambling talk like this with anyone since… Not since Jesse died. His smile slipped and for a moment he looked at Spike and couldn’t think of one reason why he was talking to the vampire. But it felt comfortable, like they were friends, and Xander had been lonely for so long that he didn’t want to think about it too much. Because he knew that the only rational thing for a sane person to do was get up and walk away and never talk to the vampire again. And that wasn’t what he wanted. 

Spike watched curiously as Xander fell silent and seemed engaged in some inner turmoil. Spike himself didn’t want to think too much about what he was doing because one of the rules that had been beaten into him, literally, as a fledgling was that you didn’t play with your food. Spike had never been big on anyone’s rules but his own but it made sense not to get attached to humans. Humans and vampires didn’t mix. They crossed paths and one died, usually the human. Spike had never been one for elaborate games with his chosen victims, a night’s sport and move on to the next was more his style. Angelus had always been the one for elaborate games, tormenting the same victim for weeks till everyone else was long bored with it. Considering that Angelus was the one who’d beaten the rules into Spike, it was pretty damn hypocritical of him, come to think of it. 

The boy had worked his way through whatever was troubling him and was studying Spike curiously again. “What are you hoping to learn about vampires, pet?”

“What do you mean?”

Spike heard the boy’s heart rate ratchet up and his question was gentler than he’d planned. “You been watching vampires, asking me questions, reading books. What are you looking for?”

Xander looked away and seemed to shrink in on himself. “I don’t know,” he whispered finally, almost to himself. He traced a line back and forth on the table top with one finger and Spike could taste his misery and sorrow in the air. With unusual patience, he waited for the boy to continue. 

“Ever since Jesse died, I just need…” He faltered to a stop, then tried again. “It’s like there’s this huge… question in my life and until I can understand it, I can’t get past it.” He looked briefly at Spike, his dark eyes confused and full of pain. “I don’t ever want to forget Jesse but until I know, it’s like I’m stuck.”

“Know what?” Spike’s question was almost as quiet as Xander’s confused explanation.

“Know if it was Jesse I killed.” After a long silence Xander spoke again. “I guess the answer is that it was Jesse and it wasn’t. Both yes and no.” He got to his feet abruptly. “I have to go.” 

Spike slid out of the booth in one swift movement. He watched Xander fumble for some money to leave on the table then followed him out of the diner, walking quietly beside the boy for several blocks before asking: “Is that answer good enough for you?”

Xander responded slowly, his thoughts miles away. He looked at Spike and wondered if he was imagining the worried tone. “I guess it’s going to have to be.” 

Maybe it was that decision or just the fact that he’d finally talked to someone about it, but Xander felt a little lighter, as if the burden that had been pressing down on him for so long had eased slightly. Surprised, he realized he’d been talking to Spike about things he hadn’t even been able to talk to Willow about. Part of him wanted to try and cover up, make some kind of a joke, pretend it hadn’t been so serious, but he stopped himself before actually saying something stupid. Spike had shared his own pain about Drusilla. Xander couldn’t even imagine loving someone for 100 years. Losing someone after being together that long had to be devastating. Ok, it definitely hadn’t been your ordinary Romeo and Juliet story, but even if the things Spike liked about his Drusilla were creepy, he’d clearly loved her.

“Do you mind if I ask you something?” Xander’s question broke the long comfortable silence between them.

“Won’t know till you ask, will I?”

“You said Angel was your Sire?” Xander wasn’t really sure what he was asking, but he continued when Spike just made a confirming grunt. “What does that mean? I mean, I know it means he turned you into a vampire, but is there more to it than that?” He shot a quick look at Spike but the vampire didn’t seem upset or angry. 

“It’s complicated,” Spike said at last, just when Xander had decided he wasn’t going to answer at all. He waited to see if Spike would say anything else, biting back the snarky comment that everything was complicated to hear Spike tell it. Of course, so far he’d been right.

“Angelus didn’t actually turn me.” Spike continued after only a slight hesitation. “Drusilla did. Dru couldn’t take care of a newly turned Childe, so Angelus, who was her Sire, took over. He taught me how to be a vampire, which essentially means he’s my Sire.”

“Don’t vampires know instinctively how to be vampires?”

“The basics, yeah. Vampires rise with enhanced strength and bloodlust, but that isn’t what makes a vampire.”

“It isn’t?” 

“Not really. Every minion has that. And most of them are idiots - just lackeys and cannon fodder.”

“How come Drusilla couldn’t take care of you?”

Spike jerked his head around to stare at Xander and his eyes were golden, shining eerily   
in the dark. He grabbed Xander’s shirt and hauled him closer. “None of your business, boy. Don’t go too far.”

“Jeez, chill out! You could have just said you didn’t want to answer.” Xander was surprised to find he wasn’t really afraid, even with Spike’s demonic eyes burning into his.

Spike glared at him a moment longer, then laughed suddenly and released him. “Bloody strange human,” he muttered. 

“Yeah, well you already told me that you’re a weird vampire, so I guess we’re even.” They started walking again and Xander said apologetically, “I know I ask a lot of questions but you’re the only one who answers them.”

As they walked, he told Spike about the first vampire he’d tried to talk to. It felt good to see Spike laughing as he described how the vampire had practically run away from him saying he was too weird to eat. 

They arrived at his house and he gave Spike a small smile. “Thanks, Spike.” He meant for far more than the walk home but he thought the vampire probably guessed that. He stood there awkwardly for a second, thinking he should say something else but not knowing what. Spike seemed supremely comfortable, lighting a cigarette and then just standing there smoking. Xander shoved his hands into his pocket, almost wishing he smoked just to give himself something to do with his hands, then just said goodnight and turned up the front walk to his house. He smiled at the quiet “Night, pet” that followed him to the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Leaving the boy at his house, Spike continued walking, his stride picking up speed until his coat flared out in the breeze he was creating. 

What was he thinking, walking the boy home like that? Spike wasn’t able to kid himself any longer - he liked talking to the boy. He knew he was a social creature, hadn’t really spent a lot of time alone at any point in his existence until recently. He knew he was lonely without Dru - but spending time with a human child? It should be beneath him.

But somehow Xander wasn’t. The fact that the boy was lonely drew him, as did his grief and the darker emotions lurking beneath the surface. He intrigued Spike with his curiosity and his bravery and his off-beat sense of humor. Very few humans faced a vampire without showing fear but Xander had even when they first met and he was obviously expecting to be killed. Tonight, when Spike had been caught unawares by the flash of anger at the memory of what Angelus had done to Dru both as a human and a vampire that had made her incapable of being a true Sire to him, the boy hadn’t been afraid. 

What was really strange was that Xander’s incessant questions didn’t bother Spike. Partly it was because so many of the questions were unexpected but that wasn’t the whole reason. He liked the way the boy listened to him and his odd certainty that Xander was keeping their talks private. Even Drusilla had rarely really listened to Spike, too often lost in her own random thoughts to pay attention for long. Although Xander was clearly pumping Spike for information for his own purposes, it didn’t feel like he was being used. Maybe because the boy had shared some of his own grief and pain with Spike.

Someone who wasn’t using him was rare in Spike’s existence. Even Drusilla had used him at times - to make Angelus jealous or to deflect Darla’s rages. 

Spike’s rapid strides had brought him back to factory district. Slowing to light another cigarette, he gradually came to a halt. He stood watching the factory for a moment, thinking about being Master of the Hellmouth. So far, it hadn’t been nearly as satisfying as he’d thought it would be and he wondered if Dru’s sight had been off this time. Course, she’d never actually said that that was the reason she wanted him to go to the Hellmouth - just that his destiny was here.

“Rot,” he said out loud finally, dismissing the whole idea for now. He dropped the cigarette butt and heading into the factory. His boots raised echoes in the nearly empty rooms as he headed towards his own room. He snapped the telly on and flung himself down on the bed. Idly watching a car chase, he wondered again if he shouldn’t just dust all the minions in the factory and start over. Reluctantly, he decided against it. Too much trouble to start over completely from scratch. He’d been steadily weeding out the worst of the bunch and there were one or two who showed promise. 

He thought again about turning Xander, making him his Childe. The boy had the potential to be a beautiful Childe - the demon would draw all that hidden darkness to the surface. But Spike found he was oddly reluctant. He liked the boy with his quirky flashes of humor and his insatiable curiosity. A lot of that would change with turning. For now, he’d leave things as they were.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Xander!” 

Xander looked up in surprise as Cordelia walked towards him. It was rare for the cheerleader to acknowledge his existence. 

“I was out last week with Jeremy Stevens. He got lost coming back from this really cool restaurant he took me to in L.A. and ended up driving through the bad side of town. Which really did nothing for the romantic mood, let me tell you. All those disgusting factories and stuff, and the smell…”

“Cordelia,” Xander finally interrupted her when it looked like she was going to keep going. “Is there some reason I need to know about your date?”

“Well, duh. Like I’d talk to you without a specific reason. Anyway, as I was saying, he got lost and ended up driving through a bunch of places I’d really rather not have and one of them was your neighborhood. I told him he’d turned wrong but he just wouldn’t listen.”

She looked at him expectantly but Xander still really had no idea of what she wanted. When he just looked puzzled, she sighed dramatically. “Hello. I saw you talking to that Spike guy.”

“How do you know Spike?” Xander felt an odd pang at the thought that he wasn’t the only one Spike talked to. And where did that come from?

“Because I was there on Halloween when he and Angel got into that big fight.” Cordelia looked at him assessingly. “You do know he’s a vampire, don’t you?” 

“Yeah.” 

“You do?” She looked surprised. “Well, you should know that Angel said he was really dangerous, apparently way more so than most vampires.” When Xander didn’t look worried, she shrugged. “Ok, I’m done. If you know he’s a vampire and don’t care, that’s your business. I just thought I’d warn you.” She looked at him darkly, “Don’t take it the wrong way. I’d warn a dog if I saw it talking to something dangerous. It doesn’t mean we’re friends or anything.”

She walked off and Xander just shook his head. Good old Cordy, she never changed. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander sighed as the door closed behind him. His dad still hadn’t found work and his parents were arguing a lot. It happened every time his dad was between jobs and it got old really fast. It wasn’t the kind of screaming, ashtray throwing fights that caused him to leave the house for the entire night but the two of them would pick away at each other for real and imagined shortcomings. With depressing frequency, his name came up in their diatribes. 

When he could, he just turned his music up and blocked them out. But nights like tonight, when the barbed remarks turned vicious, it was best to slip out unseen. Walking towards the center of town, he considered his options. The public library would be closing in a few minutes. He didn’t have any money, so that left restaurants out. He hastily suppressed the idea of going by the factory and seeing if he could find Spike. Way too dangerous with all the other vampires there. He sighed, it would have to be the old loop-around-town-to-kill-an-hour standby. 

It was only when habit brought him to the first cemetery that he remembered that his regular route had three cemeteries on it. It was one thing to wander by cemeteries when they were just spooky, it was completely different when you knew they were actually dangerous. Walking alongside the cemetery wall, rather than through the graveyard itself, Xander was planning an alternate route when he heard someone scream. 

Looking around, he didn’t see anyone at first. He pulled his cross out of his pocket and gripped it tightly as he moved towards where he’d thought he’d heard the scream. In the shadow beside a large van, he could just barely see a couple standing. They almost looked like they were making out, but they seemed to be the only people around so he called loudly, “Hey! Are you all right?” 

The man lifted his head and fangs caught the glow of the streetlight, glimmering in the shadows. “We’re fine. Leave.”

The woman shivered, like she was suddenly waking from a dream and began to struggle in the man’s arms. “Help me! Please!”

Xander shoved the cross in the vampire’s face and he stumbled back away from it with a snarl, releasing the woman as he did so. Xander snagged her arm and pulled her towards him, barely glancing at her before his eyes went back to the vampire. “Run,” he told her.

She nodded jerkily, one hand pressed to the juncture of neck and shoulder and began to move past him. He was peripherally aware of her footsteps picking up speed until she was running down the street away from them. Xander began backing up cautiously himself, still holding the cross out in front of him. “Everything’s cool. You go your way and I’ll go mine. No problem.”

“I’ve got a problem. That was my dinner you interrupted.”

“Well, I can’t really say I’m sorry. I mean, your dinner being a person and all, but it was nothing personal.”

The vampire was matching his movement, stalking forward each time Xander retreated a step. “Look, I’m told crosses make really nasty burns on you all. I wouldn’t call your face exactly pretty but hardly anyone’s looks are improved by big blotchy marks. I’m a teenager, I know about that.”

He took a quick look behind him, making sure he wasn’t about to back up into anything. It was a mistake. The vampire pounced, slapping the cross out of his hand and punching Xander in the stomach. Xander doubled over as pain exploded in his midsection. A hand closed in his hair and dragged him upright again. “Since you chased off my dinner, I guess I’ll have to make do with you.” 

Still trying to catch his breath, Xander brought his knee up, hoping male vampires had the same vulnerabilities as human males. Apparently they did, as the vampire let out a blistering oath and the grip on Xander’s hair relaxed. He shoved the vampire away as hard as he could and succeeded in sending the vampire staggering back a step or two. He reached for his stake as the vampire recovered, closing in on him again. Before he’d gotten it clear of his pocket, something grabbed the vampire and spun it around. Xander saw a flash of black behind the vampire, then choked and stepped back as the vampire turned to dust.

Coughing, Xander bent over, fighting down the surge of nausea that rose as he struggled to clear the dust from his mouth. He looked up. “Angel?”

Angel scowled down at him and Xander found himself feeling a flash of resentment, not gratitude. Angel was only an inch or two taller than Xander but he did this looming thing that made him seem way bigger than he was. Admittedly, his problems with Angel weren’t really Angel’s fault and the man had just helped him. “Thanks,” he said hoarsely.

“I thought I told you to stop trying to get involved with vampires.”

“Hey, not involved, trying to rescue someone here.” 

“Leave vampire slaying to people who can do it.”

“So you’re saying I should just walk past a vampire feeding on someone and do nothing?” Xander asked incredulously.

“I’m telling you to stop wandering around cemeteries after dark. Go home.”

“Angel, I live in this town. So do a lot of vampires. We’re gonna meet from time to time. That’s why I’m trying to learn about them.”

Angel morphed into game face and his hands shot out, grabbing Xander’s shirt and yanking him close. “We’re stronger than you, faster than you, and humans are our chosen prey. That’s all you need to know.” He let go so quickly that Xander staggered back a pace and his face shifted back to human. “If you want to survive, stay away from vampires.”

He spun around in a swirl of black coat and stalked off. Xander glared after him. “What the hell was that - the vampire version of scared straight?” he called after the retreating back but Angel didn’t look around. “Jerk,” he added softly. Angel’s attitude really irritated him. There was no way he copped that attitude with Willow, not considering how much she seemed to like Angel. So why was it ok for Willow to learn about the night side of Sunnydale and not Xander? Because he wasn’t part of the Slayer’s inner circle? Still not invited to the cool kids’ party, he thought wryly. 

Xander realized his hands were still shaking from the close call. He shoved them into his pockets and decided to head home. If his parents were still arguing, he’d go in the basement door and wait them out. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander got the summons to the library at the start of third period. He was suspicious that something was up from the second his teacher gave him the message but he didn’t have a lot of choice about ignoring it, so he simply sighed and headed for the library. He stopped as soon as he entered the doors as a quick glance showed Buffy, Willow and Cordelia all sitting at the main table, obviously waiting for him. He walked forward slowly, noting that Mr. Giles was in full-on stern mode, Willow looked worried, Buffy angry and Cordelia bored. “I didn’t realize this was a group summons. What’s up?”

Mr. Giles was standing near the shelves and he began with his typical hesitant authority. “Some information has come to our attention that you may have taken your obsession with vampires to an unhealthy new level.”

“Ok, I’m pretty sure I’m being accused of something but I have no idea what you just said.” Xander was genuinely confused, it wasn’t like he was spying on vampires or Buffy on patrol anymore. And hey, borrowing books openly now.

“Are you consorting with vampires?”

“Consorting? What the hell does that mean?”

“It means I told them I saw you with Spike, lame-brain.” Cordelia looked up from her study of her nails. “They were all sitting around researching him and I just told them they could ask you.” She looked at Mr. Giles. “Can I go now? I’m pretty sure that was all you wanted me to say. And I have a lot better things to do with my time than participate in interventions for losers.”

“Cordelia be quiet.” Mr. Giles waved her back down and she subsided reluctantly.

“I don’t believe this. This is some kind of intervention? I am so out of here.” Xander shook his head in disbelief and turned to go.

“Mr. Harris, I am a faculty member and you will stay until you are dismissed.” 

Surprised by the sharp crack of the librarian’s tone, Xander turned back around and stared at Mr. Giles in disbelief. “Oh, don’t even go there. This isn’t about a school issue and you know it. Let’s just go to Snyder’s office, shall we, and tell him that you want to give me detention because I refused to sit here and let you lecture me about vampires. That’ll do your reputation a lot of good.”

“Jeez, you two, calm down. Take a pill.” 

Xander and the librarian stopped glaring at each other and shot identical looks of disbelief at Cordelia. “Frankly, Xander, I don’t really care what you do. You aren’t exactly on my social radar. But this Spike guy is a total psycho. I mean did you see the damage he did to Angel’s face? The poor man couldn’t be seen in public for like a week. He could have been scarred. And that really would have been a crime.”

“Yes, thank you, Cordelia. Somewhere in there, buried quite deeply, was a good point.” Mr. Giles re-focused his attention on Xander and struggled to take control of the conversation again. “Mr. Harris, I have tolerated your misplaced curiosity to date because as far as I could tell you were not endangering either yourself or others. Research, in and of itself, is not necessarily a bad thing…”

Buffy interrupted him. “Giles, we need to cut to the chase. Spike is dangerous. He beat up Angel for no reason. If Angel wasn’t a vampire, Spike could have killed him.”

“No reason? Is that what Angel told you?”

“Xander, Angel knows Spike, he knows how dangerous Spike is. He doesn’t want you hurt either.” 

“Willow, Angel doesn’t give a damn about me. Which is fine, because it’s very mutual. What’s really funny is that Angel obviously hasn’t told you about his history with Spike.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, for one thing, Buffy, Angel sired him. So if Spike is such a big bad-ass, you can pretty much thank Angel.” A sardonic smile crossed his lips as he looked around at the surprised faces. “Didn’t tell you that, did he? Funny, if he’s such a good guy, that he’d withhold that kind of information. Why don’t you ask Angel about Spike instead of me. After all, he’s known him for at least 100 years longer than I have.”

Buffy was temporarily silenced. Mr. Giles was the first to speak again. “Yes, well, we will certainly look into that but all of this is rather aside from the point.”

“What is the point of this little gathering?”

“Xander, we’re worried about you. You haven’t been behaving like yourself for a long time but Cordelia saw you talking with a vampire alone at night. Don’t you realize how dangerous that is?”

“What makes you think I don’t know what I’m doing, Willow? That wasn’t the first or the last time I’ve talked with Spike. We’re friends.”

“Ok, that’s it. Friends? Humans and vampires aren’t friends. Vampires kill people.”

“Well, excuse me, Miss ‘I’m Dating a Vampire’. Oh right,” Xander pitched his voice higher in a not too bad imitation of Buffy: “That’s different, Angel has a soul.” 

“Leave Angel out of this.”

“Both of you calm down. This isn’t helping.”

“Yes, Buffy, remember? We’re not attacking Xander, we’re trying to help.”

“Gee, I’m touched. Where was all this help when I actually needed it?”

“What are you talking about?” Willow had succeeded in coaxing Buffy back into her chair, but Buffy was still glaring at Xander. “You never asked for any help. You just blundered around causing problems and doing your own thing like you always do.” 

“Buffy, don’t…”

“No, Willow, I’ve had it with this idiot. It was bad enough when he was just spying on me on patrol and stealing books, but now he’s making friends with vampires who are trying to kill Angel. Not to mention how often he’s hurt you.”

“Are you through?” Xander’s voice was deadly quiet.

“Not quite.” Buffy ignored Willow’s quiet plea and fixed Xander with a hard stare. “Let’s just get this clear once and for all. I’m the Slayer. Your ‘friend’ is a vampire. If you two are actually friends, then you better warn him. Because if he doesn’t leave town immediately, I’m going to kill him. No second chances, no other warnings. Understand?”

“Yeah, that was pretty clear, even for an idiot like me. I’ll be sure to tell him.” 

Cordelia spoke with bright sarcasm into the silence that followed Xander’s exit. “Well, that went well.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Willow hurried after Xander, slipping out of the library before Buffy could stop her and running down the hall after him. “Xander.”

“What now, Willow?”

“I’m sorry, that wasn’t how that was supposed to go.”

“Oh great, what part did I miss out on? The part where you all lock me in a room without supper for my own good?”

“Xander, stop.” Willow yanked his arm and spun him to face her. “Buffy went a little overboard, but she means well.”

“Right now, I don’t really give a damn whether she means well or not.”

“Look at it from our point of view for a minute, Xander. What would you say if you suddenly found out that I was meeting with, oh, say a killer robot or something?” Willow was surprised to find that she could bring up Malcolm/Moloch without a qualm, but it was the first example she’d thought of.

“What?” At Willow’s insistent stare, Xander rolled his eyes and tried to answer seriously. “I’d like to think that I’d make sure you actually knew it was a killer robot first. I mean, I do know that Spike is a vampire, I’ve known it since the first night we met.”

“Are you actually saying you’d be ok with me dating a killer robot?”

“Well, you’re ok with Buffy dating Angel. And can we just stick with the vampire examples? ’Cause frankly, the robot thing is making it very hard to take this seriously.”  
Surprisingly, Xander found his temper cooling as they talked. 

“But Angel…”

“Has a soul. Yes, I know. I am so sick of hearing that.” He held up his hand to stop Willow from speaking. “Basically, you’re ok with her dating a vampire because you don’t think Angel is going to hurt Buffy, right?”

“I guess.”

“Well, for whatever reason, Spike isn’t going to hurt me.”

“But Xander, that’s like saying you’re friends with a serial killer because he won’t hurt you. In fact, that’s exactly what you’re saying. Spike is a serial killer.”

“Well, so is Angel, he’s just retired.” Xander didn’t even wait for Willow’s indignant response. “I know. I know Spike is probably killing people. And I know it doesn’t justify it that he doesn’t do it in front of me.” He looked away, his eyes troubled, “But Willow, I can’t think about that too much yet. In a weird way, we’re friends and I really need that friendship right now.” 

“Xander…” Willow’s own eyes were sad. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Trust me, that’s not what I want either.”

There didn’t seem to be anything more to say. Xander shrugged and moved off down the hall. He couldn’t explain to Willow that talking with Spike was helping to heal what had been broken inside him with Jesse’s death. She wouldn’t understand, which was fine because he didn’t understand it himself, but she’d be hurt that he was able to talk to someone else about things he couldn’t talk to her about. 

Watching him leave, Willow wondered how he could believe he was friends with an unsouled vampire. Sure, Xander might like Spike but there was no way it was a two-way street. Vampires didn’t have human emotions. How could they without a soul? Spike was obviously playing some kind of game with Xander.

Her jaw firmed. The faster Buffy staked Spike, the better. Before he could hurt Xander or worse, kill him. She’d rather have Xander alive and mad at her than dead. Sighing, she turned back to the library.


	11. Chapter 11

Xander kept walking, away from the library, away from Willow, and away from the school altogether. He needed to think about what had just happened and he needed to figure out what he was going to do. 

All he knew right now was that he didn’t want Spike and Buffy getting into a fight. The worst part of it was, if they did fight, he didn’t know who he wanted to win. 

That was a lie. He didn’t care who won, so long as Buffy didn’t kill Spike. The problem was he didn’t want Spike to kill Buffy either. If anyone gave him a vote, he would pick Door Number Three - no fight at all.

How sick was it that he could see both sides of this issue? Whatever else they were, vampires were intelligent, sort-of-living beings. The Slayer was someone who existed solely to kill vampires. Killing a Slayer was just self-defense for them. But vampires killed people, so wasn’t the Slayer just the person charged with stopping them from committing murder? Realizing he was starting to consider whether Buffy had the right to kill a vegetarian vampire and wondering if that was what Angel was, Xander took a firm grip on his out of control thoughts.

Would Spike leave town if Xander passed on Buffy’s warning? He didn’t know but he kind of suspected the answer was no. Spike didn’t seem like the type to back down from a fight. And anyway, he didn’t want Spike to leave. He wanted some kind of peaceful resolution to the situation. Too bad no one was asking his opinion.

By now, Xander was running, his feet carrying him blindly through the town. The slapping of his shoes on the sidewalk and the sound of his breath coming in harsh pants followed him relentlessly as his body tried to outdistance his racing thoughts. For a long time, there was only the feel of air moving against his face, drying the sweat beads that rolled down his forehead, and the growing ache in the muscles in his legs.

He stumbled to a halt finally, crumpling to his knees on a patch of grass, breath rasping harshly in his lungs. He knelt there, head down, gasping for air, his hands clutching spastically at the scraggly grass, until the air no longer burned in his lungs and the sweat had cooled and dried on his body. Finally, he sat back and looked around. It didn’t really surprise him that his blind flight had brought him to Jesse’s park.

“Jesse, man, I really need to talk to you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Willow went back through the doors of the library and found Buffy and Giles waiting for her. Thankfully, Cordelia was gone. 

“Buffy, we need to talk to Angel.”

“Yes, Willow, we’ve been discussing that. I have asked Buffy to bring Angel here tonight. If Xander is correct,” Giles shot a quelling look at Buffy who reluctantly closed her mouth and subsided, “we need to find out what Angel knows about Spike.”

“If he knows anything,” Buffy muttered.

“Buffy, Xander doesn’t lie. Not about important stuff. I know you don’t really know him but I do and I’m telling you: Xander wouldn’t lie about something like that. He could be wrong but he wasn’t deliberately lying.”

“I’ll get Angel here but I’m sure it’s all a big misunderstanding.” With that, Buffy picked up her books and headed back to class. Willow and Giles traded troubled looks behind her but let it go. They’d find out tonight what Angel knew.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I don’t know what to do, Jesse. I want to warn Spike but… I don’t know if it’s the right thing to do. He’s a vampire. He kills people. It’s what vampires do, I know that. And I can’t pretend he doesn’t just because he hasn’t done it in front of me.”

Xander sighed and scrubbed at the dried sweat on his face. “It’s crazy, but he’s become kind of a friend. He’s the first friend I’ve made since you died.” He laughed bitterly. “Which just goes to show how completely insane my life’s become.”

He fell silent, wondering what Jesse would tell him to do. A half smile twisted his lips at the thought that Jesse would probably smack him upside the head and tell him he’d lost it completely. And Xander wouldn’t be able to say he was wrong.

Xander thought back, trying to remember the moment when his life had gotten this out of hand. Like always, it came back to the moment Jesse was vamped. Everything had skewed and tilted from there and nothing had been the same since. 

And sitting here, his thoughts churning, waiting for advice from beyond the grave wasn’t solving anything.

“Jesse, I miss you so much.” Tears burned in his eyes and he swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Things were a lot simpler before…” A tear rolled down his cheek and he wiped it away impatiently. 

Remembering what he’d told Spike, Xander continued after a moment. He needed to finally say this out loud. “I’m sorry I killed you, but I don’t think you’d have wanted to be a vampire. And I know you wouldn’t have wanted to kill me.”

He got to his feet. “I wish none of this had ever happened and I wish you were still here. Even if it was just to tell me to stop being a dork.” He scrubbed at his eyes with both hands. “I’ll never forget you, Jesse, but I’m not going to come here as often anymore.” Xander blinked back a fresh wave of tears. “I think you would have wanted me to stake you. It’s time I learned to live with it.” 

The tears escaped despite his furious blinking and he stood looking down at the spot where Jesse’s ashes were buried, simply letting his tears fall. As his vision blurred, he realized he’d made up his mind.

Spike had helped him get to this point, where he could say goodbye and start to move on. He owed Spike. And he knew what he was going to do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Willow slid into the seat next to Buffy and gave her a small smile. 

Learning that Angel was a vampire had initially freaked Willow out. Before that, he had been the perfect romantic figure: handsome, mysterious, appearing out of nowhere to warn Buffy of danger. She had been fully behind Buffy’s crush on him. Willow was embarrassed now by how easily she had accepted the fact that he was a vampire. If anything, it had made him more romantic: the tortured soul trying to make up for his past sins. She had defended him to Xander; saying that Angel had to prove himself to them. Up until now, he had. He’d fought by Buffy’s side and had helped save her life from the Master.

If Xander was right, and she had a sinking feeling that he probably was, Angel had a lot of explaining to do. Angel knew Buffy and Giles were worried about Spike and that they had been trying to find out more about him. The only explanation he’d given for Spike’s attack on him was that he’d known Spike a long time ago and that Spike had been angry over the death of another vampire. 

Looking back, Willow couldn’t believe she’d accepted that - she couldn’t believe that any of them had. Buffy had been worried about Angel’s injuries from the fight with Spike and had spent a lot of time nursing him. Willow and Giles had seen very little of Angel since Halloween night and researching Spike had gotten pushed to the back burner when Ford disappeared. It was only recently, when they’d found out about the now-disbanded Sunset Club and Ford’s obsession with vampires, that they had stopped looking for him on the assumption that he’d been vamped. With that behind them, they’d begun looking for information about Spike again but no-one had thought to question Angel any further. 

Well, that was going to change tonight, Willow thought grimly. Angel was going to tell them everything he knew about Spike. If Spike got the chance to hurt Xander because Angel was withholding information, Angel would seriously regret it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander knocked loudly on the door, his cross clutched firmly in his right hand ready to bring it up to ward off any threats or non-cooperation. 

When the door finally opened, he was ready. Shoving his shoulder into the door, he made sure it couldn’t be closed on him, even as he pushed his way past the startled vampire. He took two long strides into the room and spun around, the cross half raised.

“We need to talk,” he said, ignoring Angel’s scowl.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Giles slapped the book closed, exasperated with himself. Why hadn’t he consulted the Watchers’ diaries before now? The information he’d found in them about Spike was profoundly troubling - he had fought and killed two Slayers already. Equally worrisome was the fact that Xander was quite likely correct: Angel had clearly spent many years with Spike shortly after Spike was turned, including being present in China when Spike had killed his first Slayer. Even if Angel was not actually Spike’s Sire - the diarist was unsure as to which vampire in the small group had turned Spike - the vampire clearly had more information than he had been sharing and that had very disturbing implications. 

Drumming his fingers along the book’s leather spine, Giles wondered if he had been wrong to allow Angel and Buffy’s relationship to continue once they had learned he was a vampire. Looking back, it was difficult to understand how he could have let things slide for so long. He had allowed himself to accept Buffy’s view of Angel when he should have questioned it more. 

He would reserve judgment until tonight but Angel had better become far more cooperative than he obviously had been about Spike.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Angel stood by the open door for a moment, but finally closed it and turned to face Xander. “What do you want?” he asked, not bothering to hide his irritation. Which was fair, Xander had just pushed his way into the man’s apartment. 

“It’s about Spike.”

“What about him?”

“Buffy wants to stake him.”

Angel looked away. “He’s a vampire.”

“Newsflash, dead-boy, so are you.” Xander found he was bouncing his free hand nervously against his thigh and shoved it into his pocket. “Look, Angel, I know you’re Spike’s Sire.”

Angel looked at him sharply. “That isn’t your concern, boy. Stay out of it.”

“Don’t give me that crap about minding my own business. Buffy just made this my business. Spike’s my friend and I don’t want him to get killed.”

“What do you expect me to do about it?” Angel leaned back against the wall, arms folded, his face unreadable.

“Do you really want your girlfriend to kill your Childe?” Xander asked incredulously.

“No,” Angel finally said with obvious reluctance. 

“Then help me. I don’t want the two of them to fight either.”

“I’ve already told Spike to leave town.”

“And knowing Spike that probably went over real well.” Xander shook his head in disbelief and his voice rose sharply. “Hello - she’s your girlfriend. Have you considered asking her not to kill your Childe? A lot of people wouldn’t think that was an unreasonable request. The only reason Buffy’s so hot to kill Spike is because you and Spike got into a fight and you apparently keep talking about how dangerous he is.”

“Spike is dangerous.”

Xander pulled himself back. Leaning into Angel’s space and yelling at him didn’t seem to be working real well. More quietly, he asked, “Have you even seen him recently? Well, other than your fight. Do you have any idea what he’s like now?” Something flickered in Angel’s eyes and, for a moment, Xander thought it looked like guilt or maybe regret.

“I know what he’s like. I made him what he is.”

“Bullshit. People change. You can’t tell me vampires don’t. I’ve talked to Spike a lot recently. If he’s as dangerous as you say, why hasn’t he killed me?”

“Spike has always gone his own way. He’s unpredictable and violent and he could kill you without thinking the next time he sees you. Don’t think you know him, boy.”

“Fine.” Xander waved his free hand in a dismissive gesture. “Let’s just go back to the part where we agree we don’t want Buffy to kill Spike. Would you talk to her, ask her to call off the war? At least get her to agree not to attack Spike unless he attacks her first. Or you,” he added as an afterthought. Xander thought about promising Angel that he would ask Spike to back off as well, but he had a feeling that would just lead to another round of “Spike is dangerous” and “mind your own business”.

“I’ll talk to Buffy,” Angel agreed.

That was probably the most he was going to get. “Thanks.” Realizing he was still holding the cross openly, which was probably considered rude in vampire circles, Xander shoved it back into his pocket. He started towards the door, then hesitated. “Umm, I kinda already told them you were Spike’s Sire. You may be hearing about that.” At Angel’s exasperated sigh, Xander bit his lip to stop himself from smiling. “I’ll just let myself out.”

In the hallway, Xander let out a long relieved sigh. That had actually gone much better than he’d thought it would.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike had been aware that his boy was waiting outside the factory for some time now. Xander was positioned far too conspicuously for it to be an accident, waiting in the slanting rays of the late afternoon sun about a block away and watching the door of the factory.

For a wonder, one of the minions on watch had pointed him out to Spike. Spike had gone to one of the windows, keeping well back from the sun and had easily made out Xander’s figure standing out in the open. He studied the boy curiously for a moment then took the opportunity to lay down the law.

“The boy’s mine,” he began casually, not missing the minion’s surprised look but ignoring it. “Pass the word along - anyone touches him, they don’t just die; they die slow and they die screaming.” He shot a hard glare at Joseph, “I’m holding you responsible for putting the word out. I have plans for the boy and I won’t be happy if you lot interfere.”

Joseph nodded quickly and backed away. “I’ll round everyone up and have them come take a look so they’ll know him.”

Spike just nodded and looked outside again. Once he was alone, he allowed a small pleased smile to surface. Xander had come looking for him. He checked the angle of the sun - it would be at least another half hour before he could go outside. He pulled a cigarette out of his shirt pocket and settled down to wait near the window, keeping an eye on his boy.

~~~~~~~~~

“Spike, can I talk to you?”

“’course.” His boy was vibrating like a tuning fork, nervous tension showing in every line of his body. Spike tilted his head, indicating they should walk as they talked.

He’d left the factory as soon as the sun was fully down, strolling with deliberate casualness over to the waiting figure knowing that the minions were probably watching. Xander’s wary caution had relaxed slightly as he’d seen Spike leave the factory but he had waited until Spike was close enough for normal human conversation before speaking. 

As they began to walk, Xander glanced back at the factory. “I was pretty sure you were living there. Glad to know I was right.”

“Moved in after the night we met.” Spike confirmed briefly, it was obviously not the subject that had brought Xander to the factory. He walked in comfortable silence, waiting for the boy to say what had led him to seek Spike out.

“So, I hear you and Angel got into it.” Xander’s continued tension gave lie to his casual words.

“Poof been whining about it?” 

Xander shook his head. “I heard it from someone who was there.” 

“Yeah, bit of an audience for that one.” Spike fished out a cigarette and lit it, keeping his tone neutral. He wasn’t interested in discussing what had happened that night. The raw emotions that had spilled out were still there inside him, only lightly covered by new scar tissue. It was a barely healed wound he didn’t want to prod at, lest it break open again.

Xander flicked an anxious sideways glance at him. “Buffy - the Slayer?” he waited for Spike’s nod before continuing, “yeah, stupid name. Anyway she’s pretty pissed off about you beating up Angel, because he’s her boyfriend and all, and she found out we knew each other because someone saw us talking the other day and well, she’s threatening to kill you.” He stopped for breath and seemed to be waiting for a response.

“Nothin’ really new there, pet. Slayers and vampires have been killing each other for thousands of years.”

“Yeah, well, see that’s my problem. I don’t want you two to kill each other. I kind of did something that I’m hoping you’re not going to be mad about.”

Spike was amused. “Killed the Slayer for me, did you?” 

“What? No! Not really big on killing, as you’ve probably noticed. I, umm, I talked to Angel.”

“You what?” Spike felt a growl start and knew he was close to shifting to true face. He turned golden eyes on Xander who remained annoyingly unimpressed about being glared at. 

“No, it’s cool. He said he would help. He’s going to talk to Buffy and ask her to leave you alone.”

Spike was so surprised he lost control and vamped out. “Angelus is going to ask the Slayer not to fight me?” He stopped and stared at Xander while he processed that. Shaking his head, he shook off his demonic visage and returned to human. The boy watched him steadily, unshaken by the change.

“I’m sorry. I’m sure you think that none of this is my business, but I really, really don’t want you two to fight.” Xander’s eyes were anxious and he shifted uneasily under Spike’s stare but didn’t look away.

“Why not?”

Xander’s brows shot up. “Why don’t I want you two to fight? How much time do you have? You two fighting is bad on so many levels…” He checked himself and looked away, color rising in his cheeks. “It’s actually really selfish,” he said, far more quietly. “I don’t want either of you to kill each other and…” What Spike could see of Xander’s face darkened even more. “andIdon’twantyoutoleavetown,” he muttered in a rush.

Spike smirked, his incipient anger vanishing with that admission. “Fond of me, are you, luv?” he asked smugly.

Xander lifted his head, relief breaking over his still reddened features. “Don’t take it the wrong way. I had a turtle once I was really fond of too.”

Spike just made a scoffing noise and started walking again, Xander falling into step beside him naturally. “So, the Great Poof is going to intervene on my behalf.” Spike said eventually. He carefully buried the fact that Angelus taking any interest in his life pleased him. 100 years of neglect couldn’t be made up for with five minutes of caring, after all. Poof’s probably just worried about his bint, he told himself sternly, although that brought the smug conclusion that Angelus thought Spike would win if he and the Slayer got into it. 

Striding along, Spike felt inordinately pleased with his unlife for the moment. Only later would he wonder why he felt no resentment at Xander’s interference. For now, it was enough to bask in the fact that his Sire must care after all and that his boy liked him.

He gave Xander a cheeky grin. “I can live with a truce for awhile,” he said casually and was rewarded by the smile that lit Xander’s whole face.


	12. Chapter 12

Xander opened the library door and slipped in quietly, the raised voices masking the sound of his entrance. Even from outside, the various emotions had been obvious: Buffy defensive, Giles stern and Willow upset. The three of them were doing most of the talking, Angel wasn’t saying a whole lot. 

After Spike had agreed to a truce with Buffy, Xander had told Spike that he needed to meet with Buffy and the others and let them know that Spike wouldn’t attack them. Spike had offered to accompany him but Xander had refused. The offer had been made with an air of innocent helpfulness that Xander didn’t buy for a second. From the look in Spike’s eye, it was obvious that the vampire thought the situation rife with possibilities for creating chaos. As far as Xander was concerned, the less contact between Buffy and Spike, the better. If the two never met again, it would be too soon for Xander. Buffy and Spike in the same room was a powder keg just waiting for a match. 

Standing unobtrusively off to one side of the library doors, Xander watched the group. Angel had obviously confirmed that he was Spike’s Sire and the news was not going over well. He kept quiet, shamelessly eavesdropping on the conversation.

“What I cannot understand is how you could have remained silent in the face of the danger to Buffy. If nothing else, you were aware of the fact that Spike has already killed two Slayers. How can we accept your professed affection for Buffy if you don’t even warn her of a serious threat?”

Before Angel could respond, Willow jumped in. “We trusted you. Buffy trusted you. How could you do this to her?” 

“I’ve already explained to Buffy that I thought Spike only posed a danger to myself. The only time I’ve seen him since he’s come to town, his anger was directed entirely at me.”

“He almost killed Buffy anyway.” 

“I know but, for Spike, attacking Buffy was simply a way of getting back at me.” 

“Buffy,” Willow switched her worried gaze to her friend. “Spike almost killed you and Angel didn’t even warn you that he’s killed Slayers before.” 

“Willow, he didn’t know Spike was in town until that night.”

“How do we know that?” Giles’ voice was stern and Buffy set her jaw stubbornly. 

“He told me and I believe him.” Looking back and forth between Willow and Giles, she said earnestly, “Angel’s not the only one who’s done something stupid. We’ve all made mistakes.” 

“This was rather more than just a case of poor judgment,” Giles told her, then continued, his eyes now resting coldly on the vampire. “You are a vampire that we have accepted into our midst because of your claim of a restored soul. If this is how you behave…”

“Giles.” Buffy’s raised voice sliced through his comments. “Angel and I have already talked about this. I’m not saying he was right, but I’m asking you to let it go.” Her eyes met first Giles’ then Willow’s. “Angel felt guilty because he made Spike a vampire” - Xander wondered if it was Angel or Buffy who was editing - “and he didn’t like talking about family issues with…” she hesitated, a thread of hurt sounding in her voice, “with outsiders. If I can get over it, you guys should be able to.”

“I’m afraid that isn’t good enough, Buffy. I have allowed your relationship with Angel to continue, despite my reservations, because you convinced me that he was a force for good. This incident causes me to seriously question that.” 

“Giles, we all have things in our past we’re ashamed of. I mean, I don’t exactly go around volunteering the information that I burned down the gym at Hemery. Even if it was for a good cause, it’s still not something I want people to know about. This isn’t any different.”

For some reason, the librarian seemed taken aback by that argument. He pulled his glasses off and began polishing them with his handkerchief - a mannerism even Xander knew was a stall for time. “It is different, Buffy,” he said slowly, replacing his glasses and using the movement to avoid Buffy’s eyes. “This wasn’t just a shameful secret from Angel’s past, it was an on-going situation that could have exposed you to mortal danger.” He raised a hand to stop Buffy in mid-protest. “However, your point is well taken. As you say, we all have things in our past that we would rather not have generally known.” 

Giles looked steadily at Angel. “Should you bring any further risk to Buffy or show any indication that your presence is endangering her or any of us, I will destroy you as I would a mad dog.” Something dangerous flared in Giles’ eyes and, for a moment, the usually mild librarian was almost unrecognizable.

A shocked silence filled the room before Angel said quietly. “I hope you will.”

“Angel!”

“No, Buffy, I would rather be dead than be a danger to you.”

“Then we understand one another,” Giles said with satisfaction.

Ignoring the still dubious look on Willow’s face, Buffy settled back in her chair and pointedly changed the subject. “Now that that’s settled, we need to talk about what to do about Spike.” 

Xander figured that was his cue. Detaching himself from the wall he had been leaning against silently as he eavesdropped on the conversation, he walked further into the room. “Spike agreed to a truce.” Everyone except Angel, who had obviously known he was there, swung around in surprise as he continued: “He won’t attack Buffy unless she attacks him first.” Belatedly, Xander realized he had completely forgotten to ask Spike to not attack Angel and probably should have asked Spike to let Willow and Mr. Giles alone as well. Oh well, he really didn’t think he could have pushed his tentative connection with the vampire that far anyway. He would just have to hope that no one noticed the omission. Willow and Giles should be safe since they were usually with Buffy. And maybe he could talk to Spike about Willow the next time he saw the vampire.

“How do we know his agreement is worth anything?” Typically, Buffy recovered from her surprise first but her question seemed more wary than abrasive.

Before Xander could defend Spike, Angel spoke up. “Spike doesn’t give his word lightly. Whatever else you say about him, his word has always been good.” 

“He is still a vampire,” Giles said disapprovingly. “The Slayer does not generally agree to truces with vampires.” He gave Angel a rather pointed look obviously having only shelved the issue for now and not willing to drop it completely.

“Look, unless they come to her attention, Buffy pretty much just kills the vampires she runs across, right?” Xander asked.

“Perhaps, but…”

“No buts. I mean it’s not like she goes out hunting for Bob, the vampire that lives in the second crypt on the left. If she meets up with Bob, they fight, but otherwise, Bob pretty much goes his own way, right?”

“What is your point, Mr. Harris?” From the exasperated look on the librarian’s face, Xander wondered if he’d followed that example at all. Maybe he should have called his mythical vampire Vlad or something that wouldn’t have thrown Mr. Giles off.

“My point is that she’s never going to kill every vampire in town. Spike has agreed to a truce, which pretty much means he goes one way and she goes the other. That works, doesn’t it?”

“Xander, you’re asking her to leave a vampire alive. She’s the Slayer, she’s supposed to kill vampires.” Willow objected, looking uncharacteristically stern.

“And there are lots more to keep her busy.” Xander said hurriedly before Willow could say anything else. “She’s already got Angel on her no-stake list, this would just add one more name.”

“It sets a bad precedent,” Mr. Giles responded, his own features tight with disapproval.

“There’s lots of precedent for mutual non-aggression treaties. If it’s good enough for whole governments…”

“I’ll agree,” Buffy interrupted before he could finish, which was just as well because Xander wasn’t sure he could actually name a successful example. The only one that came to mind just then was the Soviet Union and Nazi Germany and that really didn’t seem like a good one to cite given how well that one had turned out. And hey, who said history was useful when it just gave you bad examples to make your points? 

“Buffy…”

“No, Giles. If Spike will keep his end of the deal, I’m ok with it for awhile. It’s not like there isn’t a lot of other stuff to keep me busy. If Spike causes any problems or becomes more than the usual menace to the town, the deal’s off,” she looked sternly at Xander. “Angel has helped us a lot, and this is the only time he’s ever asked for anything.” She didn’t look happy, but she did look determined, and Giles’ protests died in the face of that determination. She looked over at Angel and Xander. “I’m relying on you two to keep him under control,” she instructed.

Xander nodded, carefully avoiding Angel’s eyes. He had serious doubts about how much influence either of them had over Spike but it didn’t seem like a good time to mention that little fact. He deliberately refused to meet Willow’s eyes. From her disapproving look, she was clearly unhappy about the situation. Well, she’d have to learn to live with it. He wasn’t really worried about Willow tackling Spike on her own and, since Angel and Buffy had agreed not to, that didn’t leave Willow with much option other than expressing her disapproval and frankly, that didn’t really bother him that much anymore.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

With a sigh of relief, Xander left the library. The meeting had not been fun but at least no one had completely lost their tempers and the proposed truce between Buffy and Spike was being grudgingly accepted for now.

Heading home, he felt the tension that had filled him since the “intervention” that afternoon finally dissipate, leaving him limp and exhausted. Somehow, he wasn’t particularly surprised to see Spike emerge from the shadows and fall into step with him.

“I thought you agreed to let me handle this,” he said with a tired smile.

“And miss the chance to hear you all ragging on each other?” Spike answered. “Not likely.”

Spike had followed Xander to the school and lingered outside the library, close enough to hear what was happening. If Angelus had been on top of his game, he would have been able to sense Spike nearby but if the other vampire had, he hadn’t given any sign of it. Spike had been pleased when Angelus had vouched for him, although he had immediately told himself sternly not to read too much into it. His days of living in Angelus’ shadow were long over. He wouldn’t go back to them even if he could. Still, it was good to know his Sire respected him, even a little. 

It would be interesting to see how far he could push that. To see if Angelus was willing to accept Spike as a Master in his own right, with the right to make his own decisions, to create minions and Childer, and to Claim a human, if he chose. 

Bloody Hell! Had he actually just thought that? Was he really thinking of the boy that way? Spike studied Xander out of the corner of his eye as he walked beside Spike in unusual silence. The boy was attractive enough: unruly dark hair with bangs hanging over his dark eyes, slender frame, still somewhat gangly and uncoordinated, but surprisingly muscular under his baggy clothes. Spike shook his head, not for the first time, over the way his boy dressed: dark, nondescript, and above all, cheap clothes, none of which fit him particularly well. Dressed properly, Xander would really be a bit of all right in the looks department. 

But it was his other qualities that attracted Spike more. The mixture of dark and light in the boy drew Spike’s demon like a moth to flame. Anger and dark, chaotic emotions, lit by flashes of humor like sunlight through clouds. Courage and loyalty, anger, stubbornness and sorrow all mixed within the boy contributing to his intoxicating smell that Spike had enjoyed since the night they first met, when the boy’s anger, fear and grief had perfumed the night air. 

Yeah, he was thinking about it all right.

Plenty of time, Spike thought comfortably. He didn’t have to decide what to do with the boy right this moment. He rested a hand on the small of Xander’s back, steering him around a broken patch of sidewalk when it looked like the boy would stumble right into it. “Tired, pet?”

“Yeah, sorry. I think I need to go home and get some sleep.”

“Let’s get you home then,” Spike said agreeably. His hand lingered, enjoying the human warmth that seeped through the boy’s shirt.


	13. Chapter 13

Angelus was waiting for Spike when he returned to the factory, lounging casually outside, leaning against the wall and to all appearances ignoring the minions who were guarding him. Spike knew better. He could read the wary alertness in Angelus’ seemingly nonchalant stance and knew his Sire was prepared to defend himself lethally if the minions made a move towards him.

Spike cursed himself for not anticipating that Angelus would come see him. His Sire would want Spike’s word about the truce personally; Angelus wouldn’t be willing to accept Xander’s actions as a go-between. Not just because Xander was human, but because ultimately this was between Sire and Childe. 

Spike stopped long enough to light a cigarette, steadying himself for the confrontation to come. The rage that had ignited in him like wildfire the last time he had seen Angelus had burnt itself out in that burst of uncontrolled fury. Anger, resentment, and scorn were all still simmering inside him, but he was in control now and ready to deal with his Sire. He studied the older vampire, seeing the changes time brought even to the undead. A century ago, Angelus would have been swaggering in front of the minions, if they weren’t dust already. He would never have waited outside Spike’s lair with even a semblance of patience, and certainly not in human face. Instead he would have high-handedly ordered Spike’s minions to fetch Spike, intimidating or outright killing any who were reluctant to obey him. More importantly, he would have sensed Spike’s presence by now, would have known he was being watched. Spike was again reminded that Angelus wasn’t feeding properly and obviously hadn’t been for some time. 

Pursing his lips in disgust, he wondered at it. Vampires could survive indefinitely on any blood but only truly thrived on human. It wasn’t just the hunt that kept vampires on top of their game - after all, there were a lot of mammals far more difficult to hunt than humans. It was human blood that vampires needed to stay in peak condition. In the modern world, Angelus could obtain a steady supply of human blood through a variety of methods without killing. There had always been non-lethal ways of acquiring human blood and those ways had multiplied as the world changed. Angelus wasn’t taking advantage of any of them, which was flat out stupid to Spike’s way of thinking. What was the point of immortality if you didn’t enjoy it?

Ready now, Spike strode out of the shadows. Angelus saw him approaching and moved to meet him halfway. They halted a cautious distance from each other and sized each other up.

“Spike,” Angelus greeted simply, without the overt hostility Spike had been expecting.

“Angelus.” Unable to resist, Spike commented, “See your face finally healed up.”

“Didn’t take long.” 

Spike ignored the implication that Angelus hadn’t been injured as badly as Spike knew damned well he had been. “What do you want?” he asked bluntly.

“To talk.” Angelus glanced briefly at the minions hovering in the background, obviously listening, and suggested, “Let’s go somewhere we can talk privately.”

That was probably a good idea. No sense in dealing with family business in front of minions. “Fine,” he agreed and set off at a fast pace, leaving Angelus to follow. Spike strode rapidly through the town, heading for a nearby playground, knowing it would be deserted this time of night.

Reaching the small park, Spike confirmed it was empty and turned to face Angelus. lighting a fresh cigarette and inhaling deeply, he didn’t wait for his quasi-Sire to speak. “What? Got places to go, people to kill,” he said provokingly.

“You’re agreeing to a truce with Buffy?” Angelus went directly to the point.

“Said I was didn’t I?”

“I want to hear it for myself.”

“You just did.” When Angelus simply continued to stare at him expectantly, Spike rolled his eyes. “I’m agreeing to a truce with the Slayer. If she doesn’t come after me, I won’t attack her,” he spelled out deliberately. “Satisfied?”

“Not quite. What are you doing with the boy?”

Spike’s eyebrows shot up. He hadn’t really expected that - Angelus seemed too focused on the Slayer to care about anyone else. “Maybe I’m just following your example.”

“That’s different.”

“Yeah, always was when it was you.”

“Buffy’s a Slayer.”

“Makes it different all right. Makes it perverse is what it does.” Spike flicked his cigarette away with a contemptuous gesture that underscored his words.

“She has responsibilities. Her calling means she’s dealt with things that make her more mature than most teenagers.” 

Spike wondered briefly why Angelus was bothering to try and justify his relationship with the Slayer. It was another sign of how much Angelus had changed. Time was, Angelus didn’t explain himself to anyone - others explained themselves to Angelus. But he didn’t pursue it.

“This is the Hellmouth. Most people are dealing with things here. Either that or they’re so blind stupid they don’t know what’s going on in front of their faces. What’s it to you anyway? Boy doesn’t exactly seem to like you.”

“He’s human.”

“Yeah, noticed that. So what?”

“So you aren’t known for your tolerance for humans.”

“You weren’t exactly a slacker in the killing fields yourself, mate. Wasn’t me who liked to leave little bits draped in interesting places around church sanctuaries.”

Angel winced at the mention of an incident he had once taken pride in. “That was a long time ago. I’ve changed.” He sighed, “Spike, the boy seems to think you’re a friend. I don’t know what kind of a game you’ve got going with him, but he’s just a naïve kid who doesn’t deserve whatever you’re planning.” 

Spike looked away, covering by fumbling for a fresh cigarette. He concentrated on lighting it, fussing with the lighter and holding the tip to the flame for longer than necessary. Finally done, he took a deep drag and blew the smoke in Angelus’ face. Even though vampires didn’t need to breathe, the gesture still carried the same connotations. “Who says I have anything planned for the boy?” he asked eventually.

“Come on, Spike, I know you. You aren’t being nice to the boy without a reason.” 

“You haven’t known me in a long time, ‘Angel’.” Spike stressed his Sire’s chosen name sarcastically. “You’ve only seen me twice in the past century. You’ve changed past recognition, what makes you think I’m the same as I was?” Losing his family, learning to live on his own and care for Drusilla - in effect being forced to take on the role of a Master decades before he should have been ready - and, above all, the agony of losing Dru had all left their marks on him. Spike knew he wasn’t the same vampire he had been a century ago. Pity Angelus couldn’t see it.

Angel shifted to game face to enforce his words. “Spike, I’m ordering you to leave the boy alone.”

“Piss off! You forfeited the right to have any say in what I do when you abandoned us.” Spike couldn’t believe Angelus was trying the Sire routine. “Agreed to a truce, that’s all, not to following your orders.”

Angel backpedaled although he kept to his demonic visage. “If you turn him, the truce is off. Both Buffy and I will come after you. Is the boy really worth it?”

Spike knew the answer to that one, he didn’t even have to think about it. If he decided to turn Xander, he would do it. His Sire’s blustering was meaningless, as was the threat of the Slayer. Spike’s hesitation over turning his boy had nothing to do with worrying about Angelus or the Slayer. “I’m not going to turn the boy. Not yet. Maybe not at all,” he said grudgingly, more to get his Sire off his back than from any need to justify himself. He shot a cold look at Angelus. “He’s interesting. And a lot more fun to talk to than you ever were. So you can just go back to your little Slayer and tell her that the boy is safe. A lot safer than when he was wandering around the Hellmouth at night, spying on vampire nests because no-one would talk to him about vampires,” he added snidely. This concern for his boy seemed to have come a bit late in the day for the little band of do-gooders. From what Spike had pieced together from talking to Xander, none of them had tried especially hard to help his boy out when Xander was grieving and doing stupid things because of it.

And for a wonder, Angel looked a little ashamed. 

“You’ve got my word on the truce. ’M not going to hurt the boy. Are we done?”

“Would you include Willow and Giles in the truce?” Angelus persisted.

“Who?” 

“Buffy’s Watcher and her best friend. They were both in the library tonight.”

Spike’s lips twitched. So Angelus had been aware that Spike had been listening outside the library earlier. “If they agree not to hurt my boy,” he confirmed.

Angelus looked first surprised then troubled but Spike was tired of the conversation. “Ta, mate,” he said flippantly and left, leaving Angelus staring after him. 

The night was still young but his earlier good mood had evaporated. The conversation with his Sire had just reminded him of all he had lost. Changing course, Spike headed for the bar. He really needed a drink. Or maybe six.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander crumpled up the form he had been filling out and pitched it towards the garbage can. Who came up with those questions, anyway? “Are you a people person or do you prefer keeping your own company?” How were they supposed to tell anything about what kind of career you were suited for by asking things like that? They didn’t even leave write-in space so someone could explain that they used to be a people person until their best friend was turned into a vampire and now…, well, not so much a people person anymore. Or maybe a people person who temporarily didn’t really know how to make friends anymore. Then he could add that his only friend right now wasn’t really a person… On second thought, it was probably just as well there wasn’t room to write that kind of thing in as that led to one way tickets to the counselor’s office. Xander knew it was ridiculous to let a question on a stupid multiple choice form upset him so much, but after last week it was just par for the course. 

He’d really thought things would get easier after they had all agreed to the truce. And hadn’t that been naïve of him. Buffy clearly blamed him for the fact that everyone was still being cautious around Angel and was snarking at him every time he ran into her. Willow was pestered him relentlessly about Spike every chance she got. 

He had only gotten some relief from them when something weird had gone on with Mr. Giles towards the end of last week. Xander didn’t know what it was but there were rumors that the police had visited him in the library and it was obvious today that his not particularly discreet flirtation with the computer teacher was on the fritz. Xander wasn’t the only one who had seen her cut the librarian dead in the hallways. 

The only bright spot in the past week had been Spike. Despite everything that had happened since, Xander found himself grinning as he remembered his outing with the vampire last week. 

Spike had fallen in step with Xander Thursday night as he left school later than usual. Xander had been studying for an upcoming math test in one of the empty classrooms - math was one subject he couldn’t study while lying on the floor or his bed. He didn’t have any kind of a desk in his room and studying in the living room with the tv on too loud the way his dad liked it was a non-starter. Math just seemed to call for desks and sitting upright, otherwise he had a tendency to fall asleep over his textbook. 

Spike still enjoyed startling him by suddenly appearing at his side and Xander was working on spotting the vampire before Spike made him jump out of his skin. It was a game that Xander was getting better at and sometimes he idly wondered if he would ever be able to sneak up on Spike. Probably not. Big cheater had those supersharp senses going for him. 

“Hey,” he said casually. “What’s up?”

“Fancy a game of pool?” Spike answered. Xander actually liked the fact that Spike was so direct about things. The vampire never bothered with polite “Hello, how are you” rubbish. Spike got bored easily and wasn’t the least bit ashamed of that fact. Having been told disapprovingly all his life that he had the attention span of a gnat, Xander appreciated finally knowing someone who at times had an even shorter attention span. Plus, it made Spike interesting. His mind jumped from topic to topic like Xander’s always had and he had a lot of ideas about ways to have fun. And while he liked to joke about some things that completely squicked Xander, it was easy to pretend that Spike was just joking. Xander knew he wouldn’t be able to close his eyes forever but he wasn’t ready to deal with the reality of Spike being a vampire just yet. Guiltily, he had given himself a temporary leave of absence from dealing. 

“At the Bronze?” Xander asked hesitantly. Buffy and Willow sometimes seemed to be at the Bronze every night and that didn’t bode well for his ‘keep Buffy and Spike separate’ plan.

“Not that place,” Spike said disdainfully. “I was thinking more of a little club outside town. Better music, better crowd. We could drive over and be back in a couple hours.” 

“You have a driver’s license?” Xander blurted without thinking. Spike just looked at him with his “I’m evil” look. “Right, stupid question. I can just see you in line at the Department of Motor Vehicles. Although actually, now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure the workers at that place are demons; no humans could be as crabby and evil as those people - they’re really scary. I can remember hiding under the chairs when I went in there with my mom.” 

“Is that a yes? Hard to tell with all the subject changes in that sentence.”

“Yeah, and you are so going down. I’m really good.”

“Shakin’ in my boots here, pet. I’ve only been playing since your great-granddad was in nappies.”

As Spike steered him towards his old beater, Xander asked: “why do you Brits have such weird words for everything?”

“We invented the language. You gits are the one’s that messed it up.”

“See, that’s exactly what I mean. What the heck does ‘git’ mean anyway?”

~~~~~

The club Spike took him to had been a biker bar. Xander was pretty sure everyone there was human but the astonishing quantity and variety of tattoos, piercings, spikes, studs, and hairstyles left him not really sure about that. It was a place he would have been frankly terrified to enter on his own, but with Spike it had been fun.

Spike strode into the bar like he owned the place. Despite the fact that he was short and slightly built, Spike exuded cockiness and menace and no one had challenged either him or Xander despite the fact that Xander knew perfectly well that, in that place, he made sore thumbs look inconspicuous. Spike had ordered whiskey for himself and beer for Xander and somehow schmoozed a pool table. They had played several games with Spike trouncing Xander to his undisguised glee. He’d taken the time to show Xander a few pointers which had vastly improved Xander’s game and then they had paired up and taken on challengers. If someone had told Xander even a week ago that he would be laughing and joking with a 6’ 3” biker who could’ve squashed Xander like the proverbial bug, he would have told them they needed serious therapy soon. 

They’d left after two hours, Xander happily buzzed on his three beers and Spike drove them back to town. Well, “driving” was a loose term for what Spike did behind the wheel: it was more a near-miss demolition derby with the added spin of a driver who knew he was immortal, but somehow Spike never actually hit anything and Xander didn’t actually pee on the upholstery, so it ended ok. He couldn’t help wondering if Spike drove that way all the time or if he was just enjoying Xander’s terror.

Spike dropped him off at his house and pretended to be insulted when Xander got out and made a show of falling to his knees and kissing the pavement. Xander laughed as Spike flipped him off and sped away. Walking slowly into the house, savoring the warm glow of beer and friendship, Xander couldn’t remember the last time he had been this uncomplicatedly happy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Returning to school the next day had brought him thumping back down to the mess that was his life. Willow had cornered him at his locker and thrust a stack of papers at him.

“What’s this?” Xander asked warily, not making a move to take the papers. 

“Read them.” Willow insisted. She had her resolve face on and Xander had 15 years of experience with that look. He reluctantly took the papers from her, knowing that if he didn’t she was quite capable of starting to read them out loud to him, which he suspected he didn’t want her to do.

He glanced down at the papers briefly and leafed through them quickly. They seemed to be photocopies of pages from different books, a lot of them handwritten. 

“They’re from Giles’ books - Watcher diaries and other things like that. You say you know what you’re doing; prove it. Read about what Spike has done and then tell me how you can be friends with him.” Willow’s voice was harsh and her eyes were unrelenting.

Xander swallowed hard. Looking blindly down at the papers, it felt like something had wrapped around his heart and lungs and was squeezing the life out of them. He closed his eyes against the words waiting for him like unexploded bombs and fought for calm even as he felt his hands begin to shake.

“Xander, I’m sorry, but this is for your own good. I really think you should read them. Spike is a vampire. He’s dangerous. You can’t just keep ignoring that. You’re like… one of those people who build their houses in a flood zone. You can’t just close your eyes and pretend the danger doesn’t exist. If you do, you’ll get yourself killed.”

“Willow…”

“No, Xander. Tell me you feel the same about your ‘friend’ after you learn what he’s done. If you can honestly tell me that you’ve read all of that and still want to be friends with Spike, I’ll back off. I won’t be happy about it but I’ll accept it. Otherwise, you’re just lying to yourself and everyone else when you say Spike is your friend.”

Willow gave him a last hard look and left. Xander looked helplessly down at the papers in his hands, wishing he could hate Willow for doing this. Wishing he could throw the papers into the nearest trash can. Wishing…oh, god, wishing she was wrong. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander had fled the school and Willow’s challenging stare. He’d crumpled the papers up and shoved them into his backpack and walked away from the school grounds. Two hours later, he had still been walking, the unread papers weighing heavily on his heart and his conscience. 

No matter how many times he told himself that he didn’t need to read them, that he could deal with it later, when he was ready; he knew that if he ducked the issue now, he would never be able to stop avoiding it. It was all well and good to say that he knew Spike was a vampire but Willow had shoved it in his face in a way he could no longer ignore. 

At one point, he found himself laughing with a tinge of hysteria and hearing an echo of Willow’s voice from childhood: “Ready or not, here I come.” Oh god, it would be nice to be back in the days when the most serious thing that could happen was being caught at hide and seek. 

He couldn’t put it off any longer. Finding himself near a park, Xander forced himself to stop and sat down on a bench near the edge of the park, away from the children’s play area where laughter and the raised voices of kids filled the air. Pulling the papers out of his pack, Xander sat holding them for a long time, his eyes resting unseeingly on the kids on the swings. 

He and Jesse and Willow used to come here. Willow had liked the teeter-totter and he and Jesse would trade off - one sitting across from her and the other riding the bar in the center. They would take turns pushing each other on the swings and try and out do each other on the monkey bars. They would race each other to the truck when the ice cream man pulled up and count out the coins they had saved for their favorite ice cream. Jesse had been the fastest of the three. Even back then, he’d always been taller than Xander and his long legs beat Xander and Willow every time they raced. He used to laugh and brag that he was going to be an Olympic sprinter as he triumphantly touched the sun-warmed metal of the truck first every time.

Those days were gone forever. Jesse was dead and Willow was tearing Xander’s barely healed wounds open again in the name of friendship. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was nearly dark when Xander raised his head from where it had bent closer to the fuzzy script of the last of Willow’s pages. He was sure it was the photocopier that was to blame because he was not crying over things that couldn’t be changed. 

The children had all gone home. Even oblivious parents didn’t let young kids stay out past sunset in Sunnydale. The papers hadn’t contained anything worse than he had seen already in his dreams but they had destroyed his comforting shell of not really knowing for sure. 

Spike was a vampire. Xander had always known that and now he’d seen it documented in dry, precise English. This many victims here, that much mayhem there, two Slayers killed, and god only knew how many humans over the decades. The dry words somehow made the horror more real than any lurid descriptions could have. Almost equally sickening to Xander was the fact that someone had spent time documenting Spike’s activities. Wouldn’t their time have been better spent on trying to kill Spike? 

And what about the other side of Spike? The Spike that talked so sadly and lovingly of his Drusilla. The Spike that bought an underage kid beer and taught him to shoot pool better. And the Spike that had answered his questions and helped him learn to live with killing Jesse. 

That Spike wasn’t in Willow’s papers because he didn’t fit with the Watchers’ expectations. They didn’t accept that vampires had human emotions, except the darker ones: anger, lust, hatred. To the people who wrote those papers, vampires were incapable of love, of friendship, of loyalty, or anything else worthwhile. And Xander knew that wasn’t true. 

So, where did that leave him? With a handful of crumpled papers full of half-truths, but truths none the less. Spike was a vampire - a cold-blooded killer who reveled in taking human life. That wasn’t the whole story but it was something Xander had to accept if he was going to be friends with Spike. He just didn’t know if he could accept it. 

Sitting in the growing dark, Xander stared at the play area through tear-blurred eyes, seeing a small, red-haired girl and a tall, dark-haired boy whose laughing voices sounded clearly from across the years.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander was brought back to the present when the crumpled papers were tweaked out of his grip and Spike settled beside him on the bench. 

“Too dark for you to still be reading, pet.” 

Spike had smelled Xander’s grief from a block away. His boy was just sitting there, staring sightlessly across the park, as Spike had approached. Xander was worryingly oblivious to his surroundings even when Spike deliberately made noise approaching him. 

Spike flipped through the papers, skimming their contents, and wondered who had given them to the boy and what effect they would have. Finished, he looked over at Xander. “It’s mostly true, Xander. ‘Cept that bit about Bolivia. Never been there.”

“Yeah, I pretty much figured it was.” Xander still hadn’t looked at him but at least he was talking. 

“So, feelin’ like staking me, or what?”

“No. I’m in kind of a ‘fish gotta swim, birds gotta fly’ place.” Xander glanced at him briefly, then his gaze returned to the darkness in front of him. “It’s not like I haven’t known you were a vampire, it’s just that I hadn’t really let myself think about it before.”

“Thinkin’ about heading back to the human side of town?” Spike forced himself to ask casually.

“I don’t know.” 

Spike had to struggle for control as his demon roared towards the surface at the thought of his boy leaving him. This wasn’t the time to go all possessive, not if he wanted Xander to stay friends with him. Who cared if demons and humans were not supposed to be friends. Spike had spent much of his unlife not following anyone’s rules but his own. As far as he was concerned, that was just another stupid rule made to be broken.

“I’m a demon, Xander. Can’t change what I am.”

“I know.” 

Spike didn’t know what to say. He was tempted to lie, to make the boy all sorts of promises, but he didn’t think that would work. In the first place, he didn’t think Xander would believe him but more importantly, it felt…wrong. Which was not a concept he’d had much use for in the last century. He sat silently beside his boy, struggling to find the right words that would make Xander want to remain friends with him. Spike didn’t question why he didn’t want to lose Xander’s friendship. He didn’t and that was that.

“Spike?”

“Yeah, pet.”

“Would you mind walking home with me? I’m really tired and I just can’t think any more.” 

“Sure, pet.”

They walked side by side in silence, but it wasn’t a comfortable one like it usually was. As they left the park, Xander took the batch of papers still held forgotten in Spike’s hand and threw them into the trash can.


	14. Chapter 14

“Mr. Olsen, do you mind if I ask your opinion about something?” 

Xander had spent much of the weekend lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling. Patsy Cline had kept him company for awhile, until “Crazy” began to seem personally directed at him. So, on top of everything else, he now had to buy a new CD because his old one had taken the brunt of his frustration and the shards were in the wastebasket. 

So here he was on a Sunday afternoon, talking to Mr. Olsen and eating Mrs. Olsen’s leftover coffee cake, trying to get up the nerve to broach the subject that had led him to seek the elderly man out. He’d already ruled out the notion of calling one of those radio shows where people called to have a total stranger dissect their lives and the information line at the library just wasn’t going to cut it for this situation. 

The old man smiled easily. “Never have minded giving my opinion on things. Just ask my wife,” he added with an impish smile.

“Ok, this is gonna to sound dumb but it really is about a friend of mine.” Xander had been thinking about how to discuss the subject of ‘my friend is a vampire’ with Mr. Olsen the whole way over here but that didn’t seem to have made it any easier now that he was actually plunging in. Or at least dipping a toe. Mr. Olsen didn’t know Spike and didn’t know he was a vampire, so Xander hoped he would give a neutral opinion - it wasn’t like anyone else he knew would. The problem was how to phrase the question so it would make sense.

He leaned forward, his hands clasped tensely as he struggled for words. “I like him, he’s helped me deal with some stuff and we’ve become friends. But…” he faltered, having completely forgotten the analogy he’d practiced, oh yeah, “the problem is, I’ve found out he’s a criminal, he…robs banks. And I think the police may be looking for him.” That seemed to cover the situation generally. Sort of. “I don’t know if he’s…robbing banks still, but he could be.” He looked up at Mr. Olsen for the first time since he’d begun speaking. “I know I probably should call the police on him. But I don’t want to. He’s kind of like my only friend right now. What do you think I should do?” 

“Well, son, that’s a tough one. I’m tempted to just go with my knee-jerk reaction and say you should call the police and then stay friends with him while he’s in jail. But that isn’t an easy thing to do.” Mr. Olsen leaned back in his chair and rubbed his hand over the grey stubble on his chin. It looked like he hadn’t finished, so Xander simply waited for him to go on. After a long pause, Mr. Olsen did. 

“You know, in the 60’s, some people used to rob banks as a political statement. And a lot of people broke a lot of laws because they thought it was the right thing to do or that the laws were wrong. Does your friend have any reason for robbing banks?” he asked seriously.

Xander looked away. “Not really,” he said painfully. “It’s just kind of…who he is.” 

Spike did have a reason: humans were his food. Maybe Xander should have stuck to the wild dog example he’d thought of, except that wasn’t any better. Spike wasn’t a wild animal, he was an intelligent…being who knew what he was doing. Humans might be a vampire’s natural prey but that just got back to the whole wolves vs. deer argument he and Buffy had once had and that hadn’t made anything clearer. 

Xander wished he knew whether Mr. Olsen knew about vampires because that would make this conversation a little clearer, but he couldn’t even ask without having to go into a long explanation and he really hadn’t felt up to explaining vampires as a preface. Maybe he would talk to Mr. Olsen about vampires and the Hellmouth some day. Especially since some days he felt like the only sensible thing to do was to put up big signs everywhere in town warning people about vampires and the things that go bump in the night. Only the thought that he didn’t really want to spend the next few years in an insane asylum stopped him on those days. Denial in Sunnydale was a way of life.

Xander realized that he had buried his face in his hands as his thoughts ran crazily down useless paths they had taken many times before and that the room had been quiet for some time. He looked up to find Mr. Olsen regarding him with sympathetic eyes. 

Xander gave him a tentative smile and Mr. Olsen patted him on the knee and asked: “Has your friend hurt people?”

“Probably,” Xander answered, so quietly he almost couldn’t hear himself.

“Hmmm.” was all Mr. Olsen said in response. He lapsed into silence again, obviously considering that piece of information. It was something Xander liked about the old man: when a conversation turned serious, Mr. Olsen thought about what he was going to say before he said it. Xander himself all too often opened his mouth first and thought second and he appreciated the fact that Mr. Olsen seemed to be considering Xander’s problem seriously. 

After another long pause, during which Xander miserably studied the pattern of the rug, Mr. Olsen finally collected his thoughts enough to express an opinion. “Good friends aren’t easy to come by, Xander, and I have believed for a long time that people cross our paths in life for a reason. I think that what you need to decide is why you and your friend have crossed paths and are in each other’s lives. Maybe it’s nothing more than chance but maybe there is a purpose behind it. Maybe the reason you two have become friends is for you to stop him - from robbing banks,” he added the last part with a slight hesitation and a small skeptical smile. “But there’s more than one way to skin a cat, as my father used to say. If there is a reason for the people we meet in life and, in your case, if the reason that fate brought you together is because you are meant to stop your friend, then the question is: are you supposed to stop your friend by turning him in to the police or is your fate more to convince your friend to reform, maybe for your sake since it troubles you to be friends - with a bank robber.”

Xander, listening intently, didn’t miss the slight hesitation each time Mr. Olsen mentioned bank robbers. He wondered again just how much Mr. Olsen knew about the Hellmouth and promised himself he was going to talk to Mr. Olsen about Sunnydale soon. 

“Sorry, Xander, I know that doesn’t really answer your question. I guess I should have mentioned that I’m better with opinions on meatloaf and tv movies,” he joked lightly.

“No, thank you. Really. You’ve given me something new to think about and I really needed that - I think my brain had gotten completely stuck in the same old arguments.” Eager now to change the subject, Xander gave him a small, crooked grin. “But can I just say eww, why would someone want to skin a cat?”

“You know, I never asked.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander left shortly afterwards, thinking hard about what Mr. Olsen had said. He couldn’t help wondering what Spike’s reaction would be if he asked the vampire to go vegetarian for him, or whatever vampires called it. If they even had a name for it. Maybe it made him a bad person, but it wasn’t Spike’s violent, blood soaked history that bothered him so much. Sure, it wasn’t something he wanted to dwell on but it was the fact that Spike was probably still killing people that was the real problem. After all, if everyone else could accept Angel as a reformed killer, he could easily do the same for Spike. 

Did he even have the right to ask Spike to do that for him? Never mind the fact that he doubted the vampire would. Well, yeah, he guessed he did have the right to ask. Lots of people asked their spouses to go vegetarian. Ok, he didn’t actually know any, but he was sure it happened. And Spike could still drink human blood. It wouldn’t bother Xander at all if Spike drank human blood from bags. Even stealing from a blood bank would be a lot better than feeding off humans. He didn’t want to be the one to choose the victims, but he supposed he could even deal with Spike killing murderers and rapists. So, it wasn’t like there weren’t options.

Xander sighed. It was all just useless speculation. Sure, Spike seemed to like him ok, but he doubted the vampire would lose any sleep over it if Xander told him he didn’t want to be friends anymore. And he really couldn’t see Spike changing his whole way of life for Xander.

So that left him back at square one: Could he stay friends with a vampire? He didn’t want to stop seeing Spike. Sometimes he seemed like the only bearable part of Xander’s life right now. Not to mention the fact that the thought of telling Spike to get lost seemed both rude and ungrateful. Spike had been more helpful about answering Xander’s questions and had done more to help Xander learn to live with killing Jesse than anyone else in his life, including the people who supposedly loved Jesse as much as he did. Xander didn’t blame Mrs. McNally, she didn’t even know the truth and she obviously had her own grief to deal with. But for damned sure he resented how Willow had been acting since Jesse died.

And he was so not dealing with Willow issues right now. Pulling his thoughts back to Spike, Xander thought that there was a lot of comfort in Mr. Olsen’s way of looking at things. He didn’t really believe in fate, or destiny, or karma, or whatever, and he’d teased Mr. Olsen about being a closet hippy before he’d left. But was it just coincidence that he and Spike had encountered each other while they were both grieving for people they loved? Probably, he decided, but it was the common ground that had led them to become friends. 

Whatever he decided, he didn’t believe that Spike was going to hurt him. Spike was violent and had a hair-trigger temper, Xander had seen that demonstrated on several occasions but somewhere along the way he’d lost his fear of the vampire. He couldn’t even pinpoint exactly when his fear had faded into nothing. Sometime around the point when he started seeing Spike as a person first and a vampire second, he guessed. 

So, maybe he should talk to Spike.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike cursed himself for being a nancy boy; a poofter; a wanker. How else could he explain that, for the second night in a row, he was standing like a love-struck teenager outside the window of a human boy. 

Last night, he’d told himself he was just checking up on the boy. Xander had been so depressed two nights ago, so lost in his thoughts, so uncharacteristically quiet as Spike had silently walked him home after finding him in the park clutching the papers containing Spike’s history, that Spike had listened outside the house until he was sure his boy was simply going to bed.

He’d come back last night, hovering outside for hours, hoping Xander would seek him out. Listening to the truly godawful music coming from his boy’s room, Spike had toyed with the idea of simply going to the front door and asking for Xander. In the end, he hadn’t. He didn’t want to crowd the boy and deep inside, there was a shiver of fear that Xander would refuse to let him in. 

He’d distracted himself by picturing what he would do when he learned who had given those pages depicting Spike’s long and bloody history to Xander. He’d considered whether it had been Angelus but discarded the idea fairly rapidly. It wasn’t Angelus’ style. Not now, and not even a century ago - too dry and impersonal. That left the Slayer, the Watcher and the Slayer’s friend as the most likely candidates. None of them had been shy about expressing their disapproval of the relationship and it seemed like a human thing to do, not something a demon would have bothered with. He’d reluctantly shelved his plans for violent retribution - at least temporarily - at the thought that it would only exacerbate the problem with Xander. 

So here he was again, pacing outside a suburban house under the concealing branches of a tree, waiting for a mortal, a boy, to decide if he still wanted to be friends. Spike growled. He should be tricking his way into the house and just grabbing the boy and turning him. That would settle this ridiculous situation once and for all. Make the boy his Childe and dominate him, make Xander crawl and beg for his Sire’s favor. 

Savoring the image of a perfect dark Childe, dark head bent submissively, gleaming gold eyes filled with fear and longing, Spike was infuriated when the image faded and was replaced by a familiar pair of dark, wounded eyes staring curiously at him, confused but unafraid. He snarled and shook his head viciously, dispelling the unwanted image. 

Boy didn’t deserve to be his Childe. Ungrateful whelp. He’d make a Pet out of the boy. Keep him chained, naked at his Master’s feet. Whip him bloody and bugger him senseless. Make him beg for death. Yeah, that’s what he’d do. 

Pacing up and down, Spike pictured Xander chained to his throne - he’d get a throne just for the purpose of chaining the boy to it - pictured Xander’s back striped from a whipping, begging for relief, his cock engorged and purple, unable to cum without his Master’s permission. Spike grinned. That’d teach the boy. He stopped pacing and leaned against the tree, savoring the images playing through his mind. Saw himself on top of Xander, pushing inside, his boy’s eyes filled with love and arousal. 

What the hell! 

What had the boy done to him? How had he turned William the Bloody into a love-sick fool? 

Spike lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply, struggling to control his thoughts. He thought he’d succeeded, only to hear Drusilla’s familiar voice saying again that his destiny waited him on the Hellmouth along with a wounded kitten that Spike must care for.

“Sod off, Dru.” Spike snarled out loud to the voice in his head. “None of this would be happening if you hadn’t left me. Bloody damn half-mad seer.”

Rage and grief swirled through him and Spike screamed his fury and confusion into the night sky, venting the emotions that had been churning inside him for days. He sagged against the tree as the lingering echo of his scream faded. “I’m sorry, Dru,” he said brokenly. “I didn’t mean it.”

Head bowed, he waited, straining to hear Dru’s voice again, but silence was the only response. 

Fine, if that was the way she was going to play it, Spike thought angrily. He straightened up with a jerk, settling his duster and wrapping it around himself like a shield.

Time he started acting like a vampire again and not an overwrought human. First off, he was going to find something to kill. Something large and dangerous, something that would take serious work to kill. A spot of violence would go a long way towards reminding him who he was. Then, he was going to find a dark haired boy and… cursing, Spike stopped that thought in its tracks. He would find a woman and drain her, savoring the hot blood flowing down his throat as the heart stuttered and died. Then, well, he’d figure his next step out later.

Turning intending to leave his pathetic obsession behind him forever, Spike stumbled ungracefully to a halt. Xander was standing in the yard, arms wrapped around himself, silently watching Spike. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander had been watching Spike from his bedroom window for awhile now, Spike’s agitated pacing under the tree in his backyard having caught his eye. Spike’s shifting emotions had been clear from his movements, even in the dark. Watching him, Xander knew that Spike cared about him. Spike looked both angry and upset and Xander considered for the first time how Spike must feel - waiting for someone he liked to decide if Spike was worthy of friendship.

Looking at it that way, Xander felt like a complete jerk. Like one of the cool kids at school who had refused to accept Xander since, well, since kindergarten. And that was a sucky analogy, because he was pretty sure Cordelia hadn’t been putting him down since the day he met her because she thought he was evil, but that was what it felt like, watching Spike pacing outside his house.

Maybe he was just rationalizing the issue but Spike would go on killing whether Xander was a friend or not. Maybe Mr. Olsen was right and he could convince Spike not to kill anymore. That would be a good thing. Xander didn’t know if it was even a possibility, but for now, he was going to adopt Mr. Olsen’s philosophy and assume there was a reason he and Spike had met. He’d just have to trust that time would eventually make it clear what he was supposed to do. 

Having made his decision, Xander felt like the weight of the world had slipped off his shoulders. Even if he was only shelving the real problem for now, it still felt good. Watching Spike’s agitated pacing come to a halt, Xander was shocked when Spike suddenly screamed into the night sky. Without any further hesitation, he ran downstairs and out into the yard.

“What do you want?” Spike snarled at him. 

Staring at the gold eyes, brow ridges and tense posture, hearing the anger in Spike’s voice, Xander thought he should probably be terrified about now. But he’d learned a lot about grief and Spike wasn’t quite able to hide the raw pain that was only masquerading as anger. “What do I want?” he repeated slowly, then found himself answering with the brutal honesty of his long soul searching. 

“I want Jesse to be alive again. I want you to not be a vampire. I want your Drusilla to be alive again so that you aren’t in so much pain. And I want things to be like they used to be.” He smiled self-mockingly. “And since none of that seems likely, I don’t think I’m going to get what I want. Plus, if you weren’t a vampire, you would have died about a hundred years ago and I wouldn’t have ever met you. And if Dru and Jesse hadn’t died, we probably wouldn’t have become friends. So I guess I don’t really know what I want. Except that I want us to stay friends.”

He didn’t even flinch when Spike reached out and grabbed him by the shirt, dragging him closer. “’m a demon, boy. A vampire. We’re not friends with soddin’ humans.”

“Ok. But something has kept you pacing outside my window for the last hour. I don’t know what you think it is but I’m calling it friendship.”

Spike released him and turned away. “That’s what’s wrong with humans. Always talking things to death.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Demons are superior. We’ve had this conversation.”

“Too bloody right, we’re superior,” Spike smirked at him and Xander grinned as he saw the tension flow out of Spike’s body.

“If you’re so superior, how come you drink our beer and whiskey and smoke our cigarettes? Haven’t seen any demon brands around.”

Spike’s features faded into human and his smirk widened into a real smile. “See, that just shows our superiority - we don’t muck around with commerce.”

Exchanging humorous barbed comparisons about the relative merits of demons and humans was a weird way to feel comfortable, but Xander felt the knot in his stomach unwind for the first time in days. In mutual, silent accord, he and Spike set off walking side by side, their shoulders brushing lightly. Xander knew that nothing had really been resolved but he’d made his decision and would stick with it. He and Spike were friends and were going to stay friends if Xander had any say in it. They’d work out the details later.


	15. Chapter 15

School was almost a relief after the last few days. The idea that he only had to think about math and biology and other safe, neutral and frequently boring stuff had Xander practically skipping as he walked to school. Not actually skipping, because he was a guy after all and guys don’t skip unless they want to be relentlessly mocked and socially ostracized for life. Plus, even girls rarely skipped after about the third grade. In any case, he was actually kind of looking forward to nice, normal, boring school as he left his house. 

Which only went to show how dumb he could be.

It wasn’t that surprising he’d forgotten all about the Career Fair, it hadn’t really been big on his radar to begin with. All the good careers were taken by those who intended to go to college and college pretty much wasn’t an option for him. His dad sometimes went out of his way to point out to Xander that he was out of the house and no longer allowed to “freeload” on the day he graduated from high school. He was pretty sure that, if his dad had thought he could get away with it, Xander would be out on his 18th birthday, which came before the end of the school year. Any notion he had ever had of his parents kicking in for college tuition had been killed years ago. His grades had improved quite a bit but they weren’t scholarship level. Xander wasn’t even really sure if he wanted to go to college. His family wasn’t one where college was expected, encouraged, or even particularly respected, and some of that had rubbed off on him. He sometimes wondered if his Uncle Rory wasn’t right and college was simply a way of putting off working for a living for a lot of people. If Xander had had a strong drive to be a doctor, a lawyer, or something similar, he could probably make college work somehow. Or so the school counselor told him. But for Xander, who didn’t have any strong drive towards a particular career, college just seemed like a way to accumulate a huge amount of debt for no real reason.

Which meant that Career Fair was going to relegate him to the service industries. And if he was going to be stuck in some horrible fast food job, he’d just as soon it snuck up on him unawares. He wasn’t looking forward to spending three days trying to pretend he was excited by what the school thought his career goals should be. 

Bad timing blew his tentative plan of simply giving the whole thing a miss. Principal Snyder caught him and pushed a questionnaire at him and made his usual vaguely creepy, semi-threatening remarks. Xander was sure that Snyder had something on whoever it was that hired school principals, or maybe it was simply that, the last principal having been eaten, Snyder knew his job was safe, because there was no way it was normal for principals to get away with threatening students the way Snyder did. This being Sunnydale, Snyder did get away with it and Xander just sighed and took the form to an empty table. 

Five minutes later, the “are you a people person” question brought a halt to his desultory effort at filling in the blanks. Pitching the crumpled up form into the trash, he walked out of the commons area in search of a quiet classroom to hide in. Snyder to the contrary, Career Fair wasn’t actually mandatory and there really wasn’t anything anyone could do to him for missing it. Especially if he was genuinely studying when his absence was noted. With a sigh, he opened his book and started reading ahead in Life Sciences.

The other thing that he had somehow managed to block out, was the fact that he was going to have to tell Willow that he was going to stay friends with Spike. He knew Willow had promised to back off if that was his decision but it was not a conversation he was looking forward to. Actually, he was planning on avoiding it for as long as possible. Career Fair was the kind of thing that Willow got really excited about - she’d been thinking about college since about second grade. Maybe it would distract her enough to make her forget about Spike. 

Oh yeah, like that was gonna happen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Willow finally tracked him down the second day of Career Fair, it had been even worse than he’d feared. She’d been astonished and hurt by his decision. Staring at him with devastated eyes, Willow looked like she’d been slapped. It was obvious that she felt betrayed. Despite all of his pep talks, telling himself he was going to just tell her he’d read her papers and they didn’t make a difference, despite all of the times he’d reminded himself that she didn’t have a right to try and dictate who he was friends with, Xander had found himself trying to explain it to her. 

He wasn’t choosing Spike over Willow, no matter what she said. Ok, she hadn’t actually said a word but her tear-filled eyes hadn’t stopped talking for one second. 

“Willow, Spike’s my friend. I know he’s done bad things in his life but he can’t change his past. I’m sure Angel has a history that’s even worse than Spike’s. He can’t change that either, but you’re willing to judge Angel by what he’s like now. That’s what I’m doing, I’m judging Spike by the way he acts around me and the way he treats me. I’m sorry if this hurts you but I can’t not be friends with people just because you don’t like them. I have to make up my own mind about who I want to be friends with.”

“I don’t understand you, Xander.” The tears had overflowed Willow’s eyes now and were sliding quietly down her cheeks. “I don’t understand how you can want to be friends with a monster like that. Don’t interrupt me,” she said sharply, when he opened his mouth to protest. “I let you talk, now you can listen to me.

“No matter how you rationalize it, Spike is a monster. He kills people. He’s still killing people. You can close your eyes and ignore the facts but if you do, you’re not the person I’ve known all these years. The Xander I know would never do something like that. He would never deliberately hurt people and he wouldn’t be friends with a murderer. If that’s who you are now, I don’t even want to know you.”

Willow walked away from him, hugging her books close to her chest, her head bent, hair falling forward to hide her face. Watching her as she fumbled with the doorknob, Xander knew that, even if they somehow healed the breach between them, things would never be the same. They would never be able to go back to being the close friends they had been. The sound of the door quietly closing behind Willow echoed unnaturally loudly in the empty classroom. The noise carried a finality to it, as if it signaled the end of all of their years of friendship.

Not long ago, he, Jesse and Willow had been inseparable. He’d never questioned that they would remain friends all of their lives. No matter how bad things had gotten between Willow and himself recently, Xander had never really doubted that some part of Willow would always love him. Just as part of him would always love Willow. 

How had things gotten to this point? Where it felt like Willow was walking out of his life forever without a backwards glance and where part of him simply felt relieved. How could they have both changed so much in less than a year? Why couldn’t he and Willow continue to be friends even though they both had made new friends. He was willing to ignore Buffy and Giles, couldn’t Willow do the same for Spike?

Doodling on his notepad, Xander thought about it for a long time. The problem was the Hellmouth, he decided. Learning about it, learning about demons, had irrevocably changed them and set them on different courses. Xander knew he was to blame for a lot of what had happened. He’d been lost in guilt and grief and hadn’t been willing to share the heart of the issue with Willow. Maybe if he had been able to talk to her about the fact that he killed Jesse, Willow and he could have worked through their grief and his guilt together. Instead, they’d dealt with it separately and in different ways and their hurt feelings and misunderstandings had grown. 

Willow had taken a black-and-white stand on vampires that Xander couldn’t bring himself to accept and Xander’s grey areas had led him to friendship with someone he saw as an individual but Willow could only see as a demon, as evil. Unfortunately, his friendship with Spike was making her view Xander as being tainted by that same evil. He didn’t like it but he could see Willow’s point. After all, he was the one who wasn’t confronting Spike about his eating habits. A better person would have brought the issue out into the open and demanded that Spike not kill people as the price of being friends. Maybe Willow was right and Xander wasn’t the person he used to be, because he wasn’t willing to risk losing Spike’s friendship by placing demands like that on it. He’d put the issue aside for now and he was just going to see how things went without him pushing Spike. If that meant he wasn’t the same person he was a year ago, well, that wasn’t really news. He hadn’t made his decision to stay friends with Spike lightly and it still felt right to him. If it cost him Willow’s friendship, it hurt, but they had been heading in this direction for months. 

Sighing, Xander and opened his text book again and tried to concentrate on math problems.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Over the next couple of weeks, Spike and Xander became almost hanging out buddies. There were limits - no daylight hanging out, obviously and they didn’t go to each other’s houses, but Xander found that if he stayed at school until after sunset, Spike would often join him on the walk home. Spike usually had suggestions for things to do and Xander found himself having fun for the first time since Jesse died.

He wondered about it, in his room after Spike had dropped him off at home. Why he was able to do things now that he hadn’t been able to bring himself to do since Jesse’s death. A lot of it was that he was finally letting go of the guilt that had made every moment of happiness seem like an act of betrayal, but it helped that even simple activities like going to the movies were different when he did them with Spike.

He and Spike had gone to see a movie one night. Xander hadn’t so much as thought about going to a movie in months and not long ago, the idea of seeing a movie without Jesse would have been unthinkable. But he’d found himself agreeing easily when Spike suggested it. Of course, Spike had insisted that no-one with any sense paid for theater tickets and claimed he hadn’t paid for tickets since the advent of talkies. Which was weird and cool at the same time. 

Sometimes, Xander just looked at Spike and wondered at the changes the vampire had experienced. The idea that he was friends with someone who looked at most only a couple of years older than himself but who had been born during the Civil War just boggled his mind. But he didn’t worry about it much. Spike was the antithesis of an old-timer and lived very much in the now. Besides, sneaking into the theater had been fun and Spike was right - it really was highway robbery what they charged for tickets these days. Spike had also pointed out that you couldn’t know if a movie was worth paying for until you’d seen it. Xander had argued that that theory meant Spike should pay for good movies afterwards, which idea Spike had dismissed out of hand. That night, Spike had firmly announced over the end credits that it had not been a movie worth paying for. Xander argued that half price was probably fair because it had been an ok movie. Which earned him a “git” - he really needed to look that word up - and Spike’s solution that Xander could pay for both of them for any movie Xander really felt he needed to pay for.

Between the sneaking in without paying, the realization he was seeing a movie with a person who pre-dated motion pictures, and the weird English insults, a movie with Spike was a different experience from start to finish. Everything he did with the vampire, whether genuinely a new experience or an old familiar one, had a different feel than the kinds of things Xander used to do for fun - even when it was same kind of thing he had done with Jesse and Willow dozens, if not hundreds, of times, and that difference helped Xander move back into the world of normal people who were allowed to have fun. The guilt was finally gone and Jesse’s memories had at long last settled into a comfortable place in the back of Xander’s heart. The loss still hurt and always would, but the pain was fading and becoming bearable.

For now, Xander had tucked away his worry and guilt over how Spike was feeding. It was an issue that would have to be dealt with one day, but not yet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You might as well stop hiding. I know you’re there.”

Spike had been aware for some time that Angelus was following them as he walked Xander home. At his comment, Angelus emerged from the shadows where he had been lurking, out of earshot for a human but not a vampire. 

“Keeping tabs on me for your bint, are you?” Spike asked sarcastically. 

“Just keeping an eye on the situation with you and the boy. Harming him would certainly break the truce.”

“’m not goin’ to hurt him,” Spike said truculently. 

“What is going on between you and the boy?”

“We’re friends,” Spike answered honestly, surprised that the admission no longer came reluctantly.

“Since when have you been friends with humans?” 

“We just are. Satisfied? Well, then, you can piss off to your Slayer and tell her I’m being a good boy.”

“Don’t take that tone with me, Childe,” Angel growled.

“Take any tone I want to, Angel.”

Angelus sighed ostentatiously but didn’t press the point. He stood there awkwardly, shoulders hunched, head lowered, obviously not through with whatever he wanted to say. Spike simply waited, reaching for a cigarette.

“We don’t have to be at odds, Spike,” Angel said finally. 

“No?” Spike kept his tone indifferent with an effort. Part of him craved reconciliation with Angelus, who was the closest thing he’d ever had to a Sire, but a century of abandonment and neglect had made him cautious. When Angelus had left, shattering their little family, Spike and Dru had been devastated. His brief encounters with Angelus, Angel, since then had convinced Spike that his Sire was gone forever. Funny that possessing a soul, something Angel claimed gave him a conscience and morality, had led him to abandon his family: the Sire who loved him - bitch though she was, Spike had never doubted Darla loved Angelus - and the Childer who depended on him. Too busy brooding over past sins to care about the new ones he was committing or the devastation he was leaving in his wake.

“Your boy accused me of judging you without knowing who you are now. He was right.”   
Spike barely stopped himself from reacting. Angelus acknowledging his claim on Xander and admitting he was wrong in the same breath? He listened with sharpened interest as Angel continued.

“I have been assuming you were the same young troublemaker you were a century ago. You’ve changed. I’ve been watching you with the boy and it’s obvious you don’t intend to hurt him. I don’t think you even plan on turning him.”

“Might. Haven’t decided,” Spike couldn’t resist saying just to see the reaction. Angelus simply shot him a skeptical look but didn’t challenge his statement.

“You’ve learned control, Spike.” Angelus hesitated, then continued very quietly. “I’ve missed you, boy.”

Spike looked away, scanning the quiet night for non-existent threats. “Dru grieved for you for decades,” he said obliquely, avoiding mention of his own feelings.

Angelus just nodded, apparently accepting the statement for what it was: both accusation of wrongs done and silent admission of loss felt. “I hope you know you can come to me, if you need me. I know things can never be the same between us but you are still my Childe.”

Spike looked at him, studying him intently, trying to judge his sincerity. Finally he nodded sharply, accepting the olive branch. The pain he’d felt for nearly a century, deeply buried now but still there, eased slightly at his Sire’s words but he was not about to drop the walls he had spent so long building that easily. “Sure your Slayer will let you associate with us grubby, unsouled types?” he asked snarkily. 

“You’re family, Spike. She doesn’t get a say in who my family is.” 

That acknowledgement was far more than Spike expected, the demon in him almost purring at the gesture. For the first time in decades, Spike wondered if a true reconciliation was possible. Changed, as Angelus had said, but still family. “’preciate it,” he said lightly, then, after a struggle, added very quietly, “Sire.” 

Angel gave him a small smile, hardly more than a tiny movement at the corners of his mouth, but it felt sincere. Spike lifted a hand in a half salute-half wave, and they both walked off in different directions. Feeling oddly in tune with his Sire, Spike was certain they were in agreement - both wanting to end the encounter on a positive note, neither willing to risk the fragile accord by prolonging their talk.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike sometimes came up with oddly practical ideas of passing time. One night, he’d taken Xander to an old warehouse and announced he was teaching Xander self defense.

“Why?” Xander stared dubiously at the knife Spike had handed to him. 

“Because you don’t know the first thing about handling yourself and that’s dangerous anywhere. On the Hellmouth, it’s downright suicidal.”

“I carry a cross and a stake everywhere.”

“Seen the cross, pet.” Spike regarded him seriously for a moment, then said: “Tell you what, I’ll attack you. If you defend yourself successfully against me, we’ll forget the whole thing. If I disarm you, you take the lessons without grousing about it. Deal?”

“Ok.” Xander set the knife down and kicked it away, not wanting to risk hurting Spike. He ignored the way Spike was rolling his eyes and pulled his cross out, then hesitated. “I don’t want to hurt you, Spike. Are you sure about this?” 

“Pet, if you can hurt me enough to stop me, I won’t worry about your ability to defend yourself.” 

That made sense. Xander gripped the cross firmly and waited for Spike to attack. Spike circled him for a moment and Xander shifted to keep facing the vampire. Spike sprang forward and Xander shoved the cross at him, holding it at arm’s length between himself and Spike. Spike twisted aside in mid-leap, easily avoiding the cross and, grabbing Xander’s wrist with one hand, he pulled hard, yanking Xander off balance. Almost before he knew what was happening, Xander found his hand trapped between Spike’s arm and body, the leather duster shielding the vampire from the cross. Xander struggled, trying to pull his arm free but found himself helpless before the superior strength. Spike grabbed his hair with his free hand and pulled Xander’s head back, exposing his throat. He morphed into vampire features and his teeth closed lightly on Xander’s throat, not breaking the skin. They both froze in place for a second, then Spike gave his neck a quick, sarcastic lick and raised his head.

“Lesson one, pet. A cross doesn’t hurt a vampire unless you make contact with their skin. Unless you’re willing to follow through with that stake that never seems to leave your pocket, a cross isn’t really worth much.” He released Xander and stepped back, still avoiding the cross. “So, self defense lessons.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Although Spike’s idea of what constituted self-defense was a bit more lethal than Xander was comfortable with, he got that Spike had lived for a long time in a kill or be killed world. The bullies Xander was more accustomed to dealing with weren’t out to kill people, unlike the demons that Spike fought. Spike’s insistence that Xander learn how to defend himself was a matter of plain common sense to the vampire.

And it made sense to Xander too. He wasn’t comfortable with the idea of killing people, even demons, but he didn’t want to be eaten either and, if he had to, he was pretty sure he would kill to protect his own life or someone else’s. Given where he lived, the chance that that was a decision he might have to make someday was depressingly high. 

He was much more comfortable with the idea of learning some non-lethal moves that would help protect himself from the more ordinary bullies that had at times plagued his adolescent years. Granted, he was mostly left alone these days. Apparently moody loners were much less attractive targets than goofy dorks were.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike called a halt to the self defense lesson after barely an hour. Xander had proved an uneven student. For blocking moves, dodges, disarming strikes and falls he was an eager, willing pupil. He was less interested in the killing blows Spike had tried to teach him. Xander wasn’t a pacifist; he clearly had no trouble with the idea of stopping someone who was trying to hurt him, but he was reluctant to kill except as an absolute last resort. Spike worried that Xander would leave it too late, unwilling to resort to a killing blow until long past the time when it would save his life.

It was undoubtedly Xander’s friend who had been turned that was creating the problem. Xander apparently saw all vampires as former humans first and enemies second. With the enhanced strength and speed of vampires, that hesitation would cost him his life, and sooner rather than later. Vampires would see it as a weakness and exploit it. 

Fortunately, Xander had less problems with the idea of killing demons who looked like demons. With them, he seemed more open to the idea that they were dangerous to everyone and often simply couldn’t be reasoned with. Even then, he had a tendency to ask too many questions: Was the demon harmful? Could it be dealt with without killing it? Spike resolved to give his boy a first rate education in the lethal, need-to-be-killed-on-sight demons.

Spike hadn’t brought the lesson to a close out of frustration or impatience. Instead, he’d faced a different problem and one he wasn’t used to dealing with. Mischievously, and also partly for demonstrative purposes, Spike had gone into game face each time he’d gotten Xander disarmed and pretended to bite him, skimming his teeth along the arteries so temptingly close to the surface, teasingly dipping his tongue for a brief taste of the sweat dampened skin. The taste, the heady aroma of the boy’s natural scent made even richer and more intoxicating by the tang of sweat, the ago-old dance of predator and prey, the heat of Xander’s body as they circled and clinched, as Spike pinned him again and again while demonstrating different holds and releases, all combined to make it an intensely erotic experience.

Which, unbelievably, Xander seemed completely oblivious to. The charged atmosphere, Spike’s arousal, the sexual nature of Spike’s interest in his neck, all apparently went completely over the boy’s head. Spike was so frustrated by Xander’s lack of arousal that it was all he could do to keep control and not simply pin the boy and have his way with him. Show the boy exactly what he was missing. 

It was Xander’s trust in him that stopped Spike. Even with fangs resting against his skin, Xander wasn’t afraid. He joked, he protested that Spike should let him win once in awhile for morale’s sake - a suggestion Spike had treated with the rich contempt it deserved - but he wasn’t the slightest bit afraid that Spike would harm him. And that trust shook Spike to his foundations.

No one had ever trusted him like that. Even Drusilla had had a demon’s wariness of being dominated, of showing weakness. Even while she was dying, Spike had seen the surprise in her eyes every time she woke and found him still there. She’d never let herself believe he wouldn’t abandon her, because that’s what most demons would have done. 

Xander accepted that Spike was stronger than he was the way he accepted that the sky was blue and that he liked cheesy science fiction movies. It was simply a fact. It wasn’t something to rail against or struggle over. Spike was a vampire and therefore stronger. Spike was his friend and therefore wouldn’t hurt him.

How the boy had come by that kind of trust was a mystery to Spike. It clearly wasn’t from his parents. Most likely it had been from his dead friend. Xander certainly didn’t seem to have anyone else in his life he trusted implicitly. 

All of which led Spike to the deeply frustrating decision that he wouldn’t force the boy. Although he would never have admitted it to anyone, he valued Xander’s trust and friendship too highly to tarnish them. 

But self-denial wasn’t in most demons’ nature and certainly hadn’t been part of Spike’s since he was human. He was simply going to have to bring the boy around to his way of thinking. Of all the things he was good at, seduction was at the top of the list, Spike thought smugly. An inexperienced human child wouldn’t even know what had hit him. 

Xander didn’t stand a chance.


	16. Chapter 16

Plucking an egg at random from the carton, Xander turned it over in his hands, contemplating it cynically. The way his life had been going recently only emphasized the ludicrousness of this assignment. Carting an egg around for several days was somehow supposed to teach them responsibility? If Mr. Whitmore really wanted to teach them about life and responsibility, there had to be a better way than passing out breakfast foods. Really, aside from the slime factor, if the egg broke - who cared? After all, who was going to know unless you did it in public? Another egg from the refrigerator and voila! responsible parenthood status remained intact, even if the original “child” wasn’t. 

Still holding the egg in one hand, he walked out of the classroom wondering whether he could get away with stashing it in his locker for the rest of the day. In another lifetime, he would have been joking with Willow right now about her decision to go the gay parenthood route. She and Buffy had teamed up automatically and Xander could hear them giggling as they selected their offspring. He hadn’t even bothered to try and find a partner for egg parenting. It would be just his luck to get someone who took the assignment seriously. So now, courtesy of the American education system, he was the proud single parent of a small, round child. 

Hearing Buffy’s and Willow’s voices following him down the hallway, Xander was glad that he hadn’t needed to work so hard at avoiding them over the past week. For several days, Willow had seemed to be in an unusually good mood towards him, smiling at him and talking to him casually about neutral subjects like class assignments and the weather. She hadn’t mentioned Spike even once and the hurt, betrayed look had completely disappeared from her eyes. Xander had hoped that she was trying to make good on her promise to back off about his friendship with Spike but her good mood had vanished with the rumors that had swept the school about Buffy killing her mother’s boyfriend. Whatever that had been about - and since Buffy wasn’t in jail or even suspended from classes, Xander figured it couldn’t possibly have been true - it had killed Willow’s tolerant mood. Fortunately, it had also had the effect of drawing her attention away from Xander. 

Which was good because he was getting tired of being stared at with the sad, disapproving eyes that had reappeared since then. Mostly Willow wasn’t actually saying anything about the situation but her eyes spoke volumes every time she looked at him. He knew that Willow was disappointed and hurt by his decision to stay friends with Spike but it wasn’t like he’d done it deliberately to hurt her. His friendship with Spike had nothing to do with Willow. He just wished she could see that.

A sentence pitched slightly louder than normal caught his attention. Willow was talking about her egg and her voice carried clearly to Xander, as it was obviously intended to. 

“We have to take it seriously, Buffy, or what’s the point? We can pretend we’re teaching our child about the Hellmouth, like about how not to associate with evil vampires and how demons are dangerous. It’ll be fun.”

“You know, I’ve had about enough of this, Willow.” Exasperated, Xander spun around and confronted her. “You promised you’d back off. Is this your definition of backing off? Because it sure as hell isn’t mine.”

“Overreact much?” Buffy stepped between them, but not before Xander saw Willow blush slightly and look a little embarrassed. “She was talking to me.”

“No, she wasn’t.”

“For god’s sake, chill out.” 

“Butt out of this, Buffy. Here,” Xander impulsively tossed his egg to Willow feeling the need to make some kind of gesture, no matter how stupid. “Teach it anything you want.”

Buffy slapped the egg away from Willow, knocking it across the hall and Xander just rolled his eyes. Like Willow had needed defending from an underhand toss of an egg.  
“Great save, Slayer. That could have really hurt her.” 

“Buffy…” 

“Get out of here, Xander. Leave Willow alone.”

“Buffy…”

“Happy to.”

“BUFFY!”

“What?” Buffy finally looked at Willow as her voice rose to a near shout.

Willow was clutching Buffy’s arm and Xander and Buffy both followed her wide-eyed stare to where Xander’s egg had landed. Instead of the usual yellow and white egg mess, the egg had left a light purple stain on the wall and the white shell fragments were mixed in with a small purple and black lump.

“What the hell is that?”

“Second the question.” All three moved towards the mess with fascinated horror. 

“Whoa. I’d strongly suggest that you two crack your eggs right now and see if mine was just off somehow, because that doesn’t look like a rotten egg to me. Not in the traditional sense.”

“Agreed.” Buffy straightened up. “Go get some towels from the bathroom and let’s get this mess picked up. We’ll take it to the library and ask Giles what it is. We can check our eggs there.”

“Right.” With a last appalled look, Xander ran to the nearest boy’s bathroom and grabbed a huge wad of towels. Hurrying back, he used them to carefully sweep up the majority of the mess and the three of them hurried to the library, Xander carrying the wad of towels gingerly, Buffy and Willow watching their own eggs suspiciously.

“Giles!”

“Yes, Buffy? There’s really no need to shout as you enter, I have quite good hearing.” The librarian emerged from his office as Xander set the remnants of his egg down on the counter.

“Something really strange just happened.” Buffy and Willow set their eggs down next to the broken one in its nest of paper towels.

“Is there some reason you all have eggs?” Mr. Giles asked, setting the book in his hand down and moving to the counter. 

“Open the towels and take a look. It’s gross.”

Xander shook his head at that explanation. “We were all given eggs as an assignment. Mine broke and there’s something abnormal about it. We need to check all the eggs,” he summarized for the librarian. 

Mr. Giles unwrapped the wad of paper towels and studied the purple and black mess with clinical fascination. “Hmm. I quite agree. One of you bring me some additional towels and I will get something to open the other eggs a bit more delicately than this one was. It will be easier to identify what’s inside if it’s intact, assuming the other eggs are the same.”

“Check. I’m on towel duty.” Xander left for the bathroom again and returned shortly to find that Mr. Giles already had a pile of reference books on the table and Willow was flipping through them while Buffy kept a wary eye on the eggs.

Xander spread the towels out on the counter in two piles and put one egg on each. “Ready for slicing and dicing,” he called to the librarian who emerged from the book cage with a large knife and a mace.

Handing the mace to Buffy, he said: “it’s unlikely anything inside is sufficiently developed to be a threat but best to be cautious.” Willow left the books and came over to watch as Mr. Giles carefully sliced open the top of the egg, apparently trying for the shallowest cut possible.

“If this is just an egg, we’re all going to feel pretty silly,” Buffy commented. “Yeauchh. Not feeling silly.”

“Quite.” The egg contained the same purple goo that the first one had left smeared on the wall. Inside the opening a solid, purple…thing could be seen. They all watched tensely as some sort of pale, spotted tendril emerged and groped around blindly. Buffy lifted the mace threateningly but the tendril seemed to run out of energy and began pulling back inside the shell. It didn’t make it all the way back inside, finally collapsing limply on the countertop. 

Four pairs of eyes shifted suspiciously to the third egg and Mr. Giles performed a second surgery with the same results. Looking at the two hopefully defunct creatures and the smashed egg, Mr. Giles stepped back and pulled his glasses off. He rubbed at the bridge of his nose for a moment, then asked: “Where did you get these eggs?”

“Teen Health. Mr. Whitmore passed them out to everyone as an assignment.” Willow answered, still studying the eggs. It looked like disgust was rapidly giving way to scientific curiosity. Figures, Xander thought wryly. Willow had always been the one who could dissect frogs without blinking. She’d always really gotten into finding out what made things tick.

“What are they?”

“I’m not sure. It will require some research to identify them. We should also question Mr. Whitmore about the origin of the eggs.”

“Yeah, there’s no way he was handing these out without knowing something was up. I mean, these can’t have come from the local supermarket.” Buffy set the mace down on the counter. “Why don’t I go get him and bring him here.”

“I’ll round up the other eggs and bring them back here,” Xander volunteered only to find himself the focus of three surprised looks. “What? There’s no way these are the only three bad eggs.”

“Well, duh, but just smash them. Don’t bother bringing them back here. Two samples should be enough for Giles to ID them. Right, Giles?” Buffy turned to the librarian for confirmation.

“Yes, I’m sure these two are sufficient.”

"Ok, how about we not get carried away here until we know what they are." Xander looked around at the three uncomprehending faces. "Look, the first one was an accident. The second one we had to kill to confirm the first one wasn't a fluke. I'm not all that happy about having already killed the third one, much less the wiping out whole rest of the batch. We don't have any idea what these things are. Yeah, they may be hostile, body-snatching aliens out to take over the world but they could also be harmless critters who wouldn't hurt a fly. Doesn't anyone else want to know what we are dealing with before we start on the genocide?"

“Like there’s a real chance that they’re just fluffy bunnies who wouldn’t hurt anyone,” Buffy scoffed.

“I know that, but I doubt they are going to take over the world in the next few hours. You saw how weak it was, they obviously aren’t ready to hatch yet. I’m just saying we should hold off on the slaughter until we know if they have to be killed.”

“It does seem unlikely that the creatures will be able to hurt anyone for some time yet. I don’t suppose there is any harm in gathering them and bringing them back here until we know exactly what it is we are dealing with.”

“I’ll handle that.”

Xander grabbed a pad of paper and started listing the names of everyone in their Teen Health class. Buffy left to get Mr. Whitmore and Willow moved to where she could read the list, adding a couple of names until they both agreed that everyone in the class was accounted for. 

List in hand, Xander left to track down the students, wondering what exactly he was going to tell them about his sudden need for their eggs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nearly an hour later, Xander walked back into the library feeling vaguely like a Hellmouthy version of the Easter Bunny. He had a plastic grocery sack filled with eggs, a list in his back pocket with checkmarks by all the names, and bad news. He found Mr. Giles and Willow still sitting at the central table surrounded by piles of books. 

Setting the sack of eggs down carefully on the table, he looked at the librarian. “So, what do we know?” he asked.

Mr. Giles turned an open book towards him so he could see a line drawing of a… blob. “The creature is called a Bazor and I’m afraid that the young are parasitic.”

“Ok, that doesn’t sound good.”

“No, Mr. Harris, it’s not good. Buffy is down checking the basement as the adult of the species hibernates underground.” Mr. Giles rubbed his temples tiredly. “Unfortunately, it appears that Mr. Whitmore was under the influence of one of the offspring. We were able to detach the creature, but he doesn’t remember much of what occurred in the last 24 hours, so we cannot presume that yours was the only class who received the eggs.”

Xander shook his head grimly. “It wasn’t. Someone told me that Mr. Whitmore has already passed them out to at least two other classes.” He looked at the bag of eggs sitting on the table. “So, what do we do with them?”

“We kill them.” Buffy entered the library looking a lot dustier than she had an hour ago. “The momma Bazor is in the basement all right,” she reported to the librarian. “The floor is cracked and you can see it under there, it’s huge and way ugly. Not really wanting to see a lot more of it.”

“Can you get at it to kill it?” Willow spoke up for the first time.

Buffy grimaced. “It’s going to be hard, the cracks are pretty narrow. I suppose I could just poke away at it with a stick, but I don’t know if that will work.”

“It would be difficult to be sure you hit a vital spot, perhaps we can pour something on top of it…” Mr. Giles’ voice trailed off absently as he began reading in one of the volumes.

Buffy looked at the eggs. “Did you get them all?”

“All the ones from our class, yes. But there’s more out there.” 

“Still got a problem with us just killing them?”

“Not really, not now that we know that they hurt people.”

“Good, ‘cause I think you’re pushing this whole ‘demons can be our friends’ thing a bit far.”

Xander’s jaw tightened but he swallowed the sharp retort that rose to his lips, not wanting to make the situation worse. They still had to work together to round up the eggs.

“Actually, Buffy,” Mr. Giles looked up from his book, “Mr. Harris had a valid point. In the heat of battle, a Slayer cannot afford to weigh the motives of her opponent, but we were not in imminent danger. It did no harm to investigate first before taking action, in these circumstances.”

“Waste of time if you ask me,” Buffy grumbled quietly. “Like there was any chance the eggs weren’t out to hurt people.”

“In any case, when circumstances permit, the preferred course of action would always be to find out what we are dealing with first,” Mr. Giles said firmly, surprising Xander. From what he’d seen in the Watcher’s books that was a departure from the party line.

Willow had been listening silently to the conversation, her eyes moving from one speaker to the next. “But aren’t all demons bad?” she asked.

“No, in fact there are many peaceful species. It’s just that, here on the Hellmouth, the dangerous species far outnumber the others. The Hellmouth seems to attract the more violent types, such as vampires.” Willow looked like she wanted to continue on the subject and Mr. Giles lifted his hand, interrupting her before she could start. “We should stick to the matter at hand and leave that topic for another day. The good news is that the mother Bazor should be vulnerable to several caustic fluids, most of which will be available in the science labs. I suggest we obtain a fairly sizeable quantity and simply pour it over the creature. That would seem the most efficient way to kill it.”

Xander looked at the book, studiously avoiding Willow’s eyes. Although he was really hoping she had been listening to Mr. Giles, he really didn’t want to get into it right now and risk fracturing the fragile working relationship they had going. “What about the eggs?”

“Fortunately, they are linked to the parent at this stage in their development. The death of the parent will result in the death of the offspring.”

“Oh. That’s good, I guess.” Xander felt vaguely queasy at the dry explanation but had to agree that parasitic babies couldn’t be allowed to live. This was pretty much what Spike had been telling him too, that he thought too much about who and what his opponents were and that sometimes you just had to act or you would end up dead. Spike just said it a lot more colorfully than Mr. Giles did.

“It makes things much simpler. The eggs will simply not hatch and any that have already hatched, such as the one that had taken control of Mr. Whitmore will simply die and detach from their unwitting hosts. The persons affected should have no memory of the incident and so no explanations will be necessary.”

Yep, Spike would have said that in one sentence: the eggs and kiddies will die, no one will remember, end of story.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike walked through the cemetery only marginally keeping track of his surroundings. He was mapping out a battle campaign and the planning was not going well. Having decided to seduce Xander rather than just simply taking him, Spike had realized somewhat belatedly that he had no experience in gentle seduction. All his sexual experience was as a vampire and of little use to him in this situation. Demons tended to be extremely direct about sex. Spike again considered whether he should simply claim the boy and have his way with him. He could ensure that Xander would enjoy it but he was hesitating. Dithering around like a bloody human, more like, he thought sourly. 

Spike thought back on his human existence. William had been an insecure, elitist fop, too frightened of rejection to do more than pathetically hang about, timidly adoring his love from afar. Victorian William would have been horrified at the idea of sex with another man, hell he’d barely considered the notion of sex with a woman. William had tended to think in terms of gentle embraces and close-mouthed, almost chaste, kisses as the goal of his ineffective and unsuccessful pursuit of his ladylove. 

Demons were less inhibited or maybe just more honest. Most demons didn’t care about gender or species when it came to sex. Spike could, and had, fucked both sexes and a number of different species in his early years as a vampire, learning quickly that sexual pleasure came in many forms. After he and Dru were on their own, he’d come as close to monogamy as vampires generally get - only taking other partners with Drusilla’s consent and usually with her participation. With Dru, Spike had been more tender and caring of her pleasure than with any other partner he’d ever had. Sex with Dru had varied wildly from violent bouts of clawing, biting passion to gentle wooing suitable for the Victorian maiden she’d once been, as changeable as the whims that had flitted through his Dark Princess’ mind. 

It was only now, looking back, that Spike realized how much in control of their relationship Dru had been. He’d danced to her tunes and catered to her needs and whims and the wonder was that, even now, he didn’t resent it. Loving her as he had, it had seemed natural to let her set the tone of their unlives. There were times when he found himself wondering if she had been worth it, but mostly he knew that he would happily put up with it all again if he could have her back. 

Xander was no mad Victorian maiden but he was an American teenager who undoubtedly had a thousand automatic defenses against homosexual thoughts, drives and urges. Remembering what had worked on Drusilla when she played at being a coy virgin, Spike began to map out his game plan. This prey needed to be lured, unsuspecting. Pouncing, no matter how satisfying in the short term, would only result in the prey slipping between his fingers, like one of Dru’s birds that could be coaxed to perch on her finger but panicked and fled at any sudden move to capture it.

Thinking of the pursuit in hunting terms, Spike began to relish the game ahead. No longer did it seem a pointless exercise in humoring human anxieties and teenage homophobia. This was a delicate stalking of an elusive quarry and, above all, vampires were hunters.

A puckish grin crossed Spike’s face as he considered tactics. Weighing the relative merits of different approaches, he let his feet carry him through the cemetery until the quiet murmur of voices pulled him back to awareness of his surroundings. He slowed his steps cautiously as he sensed the Slayer and Angelus nearby. 

The two were snogging, going at it hot and heavy and oblivious not only to Spike’s approach but also to the fact that they were being observed from another direction. Shaking his head in disbelief that they would let themselves get so distracted, Spike retreated soundlessly, circling around and coming up behind the vampires that were watching the Slayer and Angelus from the top of a nearby crypt. 

It didn’t take long for Spike to recognize them: Lyle and Tector Gorch. Both dumb as posts, they were a pair of ignorant good ol’ boys but they could be fun. Lyle was telling his brother quietly that they would have to pick their time to fight the Slayer. Spike snorted quietly to himself, leaning against a tree and waiting for the two to come down from the roof of the crypt. Lyle had been vowing to kill a Slayer ever since he learned of their existence. Somehow, he never quite seemed to find the right time when a Slayer was at enough of a disadvantage for him to actually fight one.

The Slayer and Angelus finally left, holding hands and strolling through the graveyard and still nearly oblivious to their surroundings. The Gorches barely waited for them to move out of sight before vaulting down from the crypt. Spike stepped out of the shadows, moving into the open as they landed. The brothers came on guard, obviously surprised to learn that they had in turn been watched but relaxed when they saw it was another vampire. 

“That you, Spike?” Tector asked after a brief pause.

Spike just nodded, lighting a cigarette and keeping a wary eye on Lyle. Tector always followed where Lyle led, if trouble was coming, it would come from Lyle. 

“Well, lookie here. Spike. Haven’t seen you since… well, I don’t really remember when we saw you last.” Lyle settled his hat and looked like he was struggling to recall.

“Spain, the orphanage,” Spike filled in helpfully, not wanting to wait for Lyle to find the memory on his own. He didn’t have that kind of patience.

“That’s right. Damn, those were good times. You back with Angelus?”

“No.” His Sire was a delicate question and one Spike didn’t intend to discuss with the Gorches. “Just landed in the same town,” he explained briefly. “What brings you boys to the Hellmouth?”

“Just looking for fun, you know us,” Lyle said. “What’s up with Angelus and the Slayer? The two of them kissing like that? That just ain’t natural.”

“Angelus always did like his little perversions,” Spike shrugged dismissively as if the Slayer was just a passing fancy for his Sire. And maybe she was, he thought optimistically. “How long are you boys in town?” 

“Well, Lyle here says he’s going to kill the Slayer,” Tector said proudly as if Lyle hadn’t been bragging about killing Slayers for decades.

“Let me guess - he’s just picking his time, right?” Spike had heard this tune before. 

“That’s right,” Lyle confirmed. “Now you aren’t going to claim you got first dibs on her, are you Spike?”

“No, no,” Spike waved a dismissive hand. “She’s all yours. I’m more interested in what you’ve got planned for afterwards.”

Lyle and Tector exchanged grins. “Just the usual fun. This here seems like it’s a damn boring town for a Hellmouth. Maybe we should just kill everyone and burn it down. What do you say - you up for that?”

“Well, we’re going to have a problem there, boys.” Spike dropped his cigarette and his fist swung out, punching Lyle hard in the face and dropping him cleanly. Before either brother could move, Spike smashed his foot into Tector’s chest, staggering him backwards. Lyle roared in outrage, springing to his feet and rushing at Spike. Spike spun around in a swirl of black leather, avoiding Lyle’s fists and using the momentum of his spin to power a vicious kick to Lyle’s head. Lyle stumbled to his knees and Spike jumped on him, grabbing his hair with one hand and yanking his head up. He brought a stake whistling down to the unprotected chest and stopped the death blow before it did more than split the skin on Lyle’s chest. All three froze in place, Tector stopping in mid-stride as he raced to Lyle’s assistance and Lyle staring dumbly down at the stake that had so nearly dusted him. 

Spike kept the stake where it was. “This is my town. If you boys had had the courtesy to check in with the Master of the Hellmouth when you got here, you would know that that was me.” He pressed a little harder with the stake when Lyle opened his mouth to say something. “You are not burning down my town. In fact, you are not doing anything here without my permission.” He pushed harder, drawing a pained grunt and a fresh trickle of blood. “Are we clear?”

“We’re clear.” Lyle didn’t move a muscle until Spike pulled the stake out and stepped back. He got to his feet, plucking at the front of his plaid shirt, pulling it free of the blood on his chest. “Damnit, Spike. I liked this shirt.” 

“Just wanted to be sure you were listening.” 

“You could have just said something,” Tector complained. “You all right, Lyle?”

“Don’t fuss. Man was just making a point. So, you’re Master here, huh? What about Angelus?”

“What about him?”

“Well, how does he feel about that, you bein’ his Childe and all? How come he ain’t Master here?”

“Because he doesn’t want to be bothered with it.” 

Lyle and Tector turned in surprise as Angelus’ voice answered from behind them. He approached the three and shot Lyle a dark look. “Spike might not care if you kill the Slayer but I do. I suggest the two of you leave town before you start something you can’t finish.”

Lyle scowled at Angelus. “It’s just not natural, you and the Slayer getting all snuggly together. I think we owe it to demons everywhere to put a stop to it. And I told Tector I was going to kill her. Can’t go back on my word now, can I?”

“Lyle, you’ve been saying that you’re going to kill a Slayer for nearly a century now. Somehow you never quite do it. Don’t waste my time.” 

“Lyle’s just coming up with a plan, is all. You’ll see,” Tector said confidently. 

Angel crossed his arms and frowned at the brothers. “What’s it going to be? Are you two leaving town or are we going to have to dust both of you right here?”

“They’ll be another Slayer in a couple of years, you can try for that one,” Spike added helpfully, ignoring Angelus’ wince at the reminder of the short life span of most Slayers. Served him right for barging in like this and not leaving Spike much choice but to back Angel’s play or risk looking like he wasn’t in control.

“Lyle?” Tector as always looked to his brother for guidance.

“Could take you both now, iffin I felt like it,” Lyle blustered. He considered the two vampires in front of him and shifted his feet. “But I don’t feel like it.” He tipped his hat. “I’ll let you boys off on account of we’re old friends, so Tector and me will just be moseying along.”

“Good,” was all Angelus said.

Completely unsurprised, Lyle never started a fight he wasn’t positive he’d win, Spike just added: “Spend the day anywhere you want, but be gone by an hour past sunset tomorrow. You boys eaten tonight?”

Tector nodded and started to describe the drunk they’d found but Spike waved him off. “Then you’re done for the night. Drink, raise hell, whatever you want, but no more killing in my town because you didn’t have the courtesy to let me know you were here.”

Ordinarily, Spike didn’t give a damn if vampires presented themselves to his Court upon arrival, the whole silly introduction practice was a complete bore that he routinely delegated to anyone handy. But that was newly turned minions who just loved making a production of introducing themselves like they were someone important. Vampires that had survived for nearly a century were a different story, even idiots like these two. They had bloody well better have the manners to let the reigning Master know they were in town.

Predictably, Lyle started whining, but Spike growled, cutting him off. “You don’t like it, then your brother can carry you out of town in an ashtray. Those are the rules. What’s it going to be?”

“You were a lot more fun before, Spike.”

“Well, I don’t remember you being quite this much of an idiot either so we’ll both just have to live with our disappointment.”

Angelus and Spike stood watching the brothers move off until their grumbling died off in the distance. Glancing over at Angelus, Spike saw that he was about to leave, probably heading home to his lonely apartment now that his girl had gone to bed. 

What a pair of complete saps they had both become. The two of them, Master Vampires, alone and bored because their teenaged crushes were too young to stay up late. It was embarrassing to have that in common with his Sire but maybe it was better than nothing. 

“Fancy a drink?” he asked on impulse.

Angelus looked surprised but pleased. “Let’s do that.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Teaching Xander self defense had been a brilliant idea. Talk about killing lots of bleedin’ birds with one well placed stone. His boy really did need to learn what Spike was teaching him, the exercise got Xander’s blood pumping so that Spike could almost taste it through the sweat-soaked skin, they both peeled off a couple of layers so Spike got a good view of his boy’s assets, and how else could he be rubbin’ all over the teen, slowly introducing the boy’s inexperienced flesh to the joys of male-on-male friction? 

He was purportedly teaching Xander how to fall properly and how to win free when he was pinned. Xander had started the lesson laughing and concentrating on the moves Spike was demonstrating. Cool flesh against warm, Spike moved in slow motion as he demonstrated hold after hold. Bodies pressed together as he pinned Xander to the wall and the floor and Xander didn’t even seem to notice that most of the holds were more suited to a pirate ravishing a maiden than to a life and death struggle. God bless innocent teenagers. 

Gradually, Xander laughed less, his breathing coming more quickly, his body becoming sensitized to Spike’s so casual touches that brushed against Xander’s groin whenever possible. Xander was on the edge of arousal, his body reacting to Spike’s without him even knowing it.

Spike had Xander’s back pushed against the wall, their bodies pressed full length against each other, as he demonstrated how the boy could still find vulnerable spots to attack that he felt it. Xander’s cock twitched and began to harden against Spike’s hip. Spike had been extremely careful to keep his own erection from coming in contact with the boy, it was too soon for that. Xander’s eyes dilated and the scent of arousal began perfuming the air. Spike inhaled deeply.

Got him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander jerked away from Spike, who released him instantly. He quickly turned away so the vampire couldn’t see his problem, his face red with mortification. When the hell had Xander Jr. decided to join the party? 

Xander was painfully aware that his normal sex drive had pretty much disappeared recently. When he’d first noticed that he wasn’t feeling like a walking hormone anymore, it had almost been a relief. He’d had so much on his mind last spring that it had actually been a while before he noticed that he didn’t feel the need to jerk off in the shower anymore and that his body wasn’t embarrassing him with inopportunely timed arousal - usually at school. But, after awhile, his lack of interest in tight sweaters and mini skirts and spandex had begun to feel like one more thing that he’d lost because of Jesse’s death. Without Jesse around to talk to about girls, and what they wanted to do with them, and which ones were hottest, it seemed like somehow he’d become a monk overnight. Which was just what a formerly perpetually horny teen wanted to feel like.

So why had his penis decided to return to active duty now, of all inconvenient times? Xander thought frantically, trying desperately to will his erection away. Spike would think there was something wrong with him and he was so not explaining that his plumbing was confused after having been out of order for months. Xander moved away from the vampire, pretending his leg was stiff and called back over his shoulder: “Hang on a second, got a Charley horse, I’ll just walk it out.”

“Right leg, innit?” Spike took his arm and eased him down to the floor. “Stretch your leg out, pet.” 

What on earth had made him think that a leg cramp was a good excuse? Spike’s strong, cool hands were massaging his calf, pushing up his pant leg and traveling between ankle and knee, and Xander Jr. was liking it way too much. “It’s ok, Spike, I’ve got it.” He reached down and tried to replace Spike’s hands with his own but Spike just gently pushed him back.

“My fault, Xander, I should have made you warm up longer. We’ll have this worked out in a minute.”

Xander groaned and lay back on the floor, bring his other leg up and trying to shield his groin from Spike as he thought about the most unsexy things he could think of. The vampire would think he was an idiot at best and lusting after him at worst if he noticed Xander’s arousal. He was going to have to have a stern talk with his penis tonight, congratulating it on its return and lecturing it about having been AWOL so long it had forgotten what its function was. Girls, he thought desperately, I like girls. Get with the program. 

Oh, god, Spike was massaging his other leg. Xander shot upright. “I’m good,” he announced brightly. “That leg’s fine.”

Spike looked at him with concerned eyes. “Sorry, pet. We’ll be sure you warm up proper next time.”

Spike helped him to his feet, and Xander decided they were calling a halt to tonight’s session. Surely he could find a nice T and A show on TV to straighten his anatomy out and Spike would never have to know about this embarrassing incident. 

As he walked somewhat stiffly over to pick up his jacket, he completely missed Spike’s amused smile and satisfied look.


	17. Chapter 17

Spike and Angel sat nearly silently, both drinking and studying the other patrons and not looking at each other. This was the third time they had gotten together for a drink and long, awkward silences and taboo subjects were still more frequent than conversation. 

Spike figured things were actually improving slightly. His Sire had loosened up enough by now to order human blood, although Spike had to wonder if the look of sheer disbelief on the bartender’s face when Angelus had ordered pig’s blood the first time they’d had a drink together didn’t have something to do with it. That and the fact that it had taken several minutes of rummaging through the bottom of the refrigerator before the bartender had been able to produce an elderly bottle of pig’s blood. Spike had forgotten any ideas he’d had about being diplomatic at the expression on Angelus’ face at his first taste of the blood which had obviously gone off some time back. 

Angelus had taken his mockery surprisingly well, admitting that he detested pig’s blood even when it was fresh. He’d drunk the mug of human that Spike had ordered for him to replace the pig and had even agreed with Spike that he shouldn’t pay for the pig’s blood. 

It wasn’t the same: a century ago, Angelus would have eviscerated any bartender that had served him bad blood and left them still alive and bleeding into upturned glasses for the next customers, but it was better than the self-flagellating prig Angelus had been for so long. Not that Spike felt like he hadn’t changed himself. Part of him was feeling ridiculously like a bureaucrat: he still had difficulty believing that he’d run the Gorches out of town so they wouldn’t wreck havoc on his turf, havoc Spike would have once delighted in causing himself. Despite the fact that he was Master of the Hellmouth and it had been about power, it still sat uneasily with his self-image that instead of raising hell, maybe even literally, with the Gorches, he’d settled for a tame drink with his Sire. He wondered idly if this was what humans meant when they said they were feeling old, then banished the thought immediately.

It was difficult though, trying to re-connect with his Sire when there was so little they could talk about. The past was pretty much off limits since Angelus didn’t enjoy reminiscing about the bad old days. They didn’t talk about Xander or the Slayer or Angel’s bizarre crusade to kill all vampires. They were demons, they weren’t quite reduced to talking about the weather and each other’s health, but it had come close on occasion.

Still, they persisted, both making tentative forays into conversation, usually preceded by long silences as they studied the bar hoping the other patrons would provide them with a safe topic. Spike appreciated that his Sire was making an effort, trying to bridge the divide of his neglect and indifference. 

Tonight was the same, although Angelus had actually ordered human blood voluntarily without having to be talked into it. Spike hadn’t missed the way Angelus relished the taste, his eyes closing in bliss as he drained his single glass to the dregs. Spike watched him as his tongue flickered out, chasing the last drops at the bottom of the glass. He really needed to talk to Angelus about his diet - it wasn’t right for a vampire to live on animal blood. 

Setting the empty glass down, Angelus caught Spike’s gaze, and the muscles in his jaw tightened at the disapproval in Spike’s eyes. Pushing the glass away from him, his Sire asked abruptly: “What happened to Drusilla?”

The shock of the sudden question was like holy water splashed in his face and he snarled at Angelus, fury and grief tearing through him. He didn’t even realize he had sprung to his feet until Angelus’ hand clamped down over his, stopping him.

“She was my Childe too, Spike,” Angelus said quietly. “I need to know.” 

Spike glared for a moment longer then his anger abruptly fled, leaving him feeling drained and weary. He sat back down slowly and sighed. “She got sick. She just…faded away into nothing.” He pulled out a cigarette and lit it with unsteady hands. Looking away from his Sire, he took several deep drags before he was able to continue. “I tried. Tried so hard to find a cure for her.” He glared at Angelus with old resentment. “Sire’s blood might have helped her but you weren’t bloody available, were you? Off cleaning the lint out of your navel and too damn busy to help your childer, now weren’t you?”

Angel’s shoulders slumped under Spike’s malevolent, yellow-eyed anger but he didn’t look away. “I’m sorry. I should have been there for both of you. I shouldn’t have abandoned you the way I did.” He didn’t offer any other explanation but what could he say that would be new: Angelus had gotten himself a soul and didn’t want his family around any more.

Eyes hard, mask firmly in place, Spike just made a scoffing noise. He leaned back against the cushions of the booth, wrapping his duster around him with both arms. “Yeah, well, we did just fine, Dru and me. Didn’t really need your brooding face around to interfere with our fun.” He flicked his cigarette away, ignoring the shriek of complaint from the hr’ashlek demon whose soft fur almost ignited as the still burning cigarette arced near its table.

Angelus’ regretful expression didn’t change. “I know. You did well by Drusilla, Childe. Better than I did.”

“Too right, mate.” Spike stood abruptly and this time Angelus didn’t stop him. “I’m bored,” he announced. “Let’s go kill something.” 

“Hit a cemetery, take out a couple of fledglings?” Angelus suggested.

“That’ll do if we can’t find anythin’ better.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander had it figured out. Nothing to worry about. It had been an aberration. A one-time fluke. If Spike had even noticed, then he’d been nice enough not to mention it. 

It wasn’t like he’d been obsessing over the incident. Not really. Not more than any normal teenage male who’d suddenly found himself reacting to a member of the wrong sex. But a guy couldn’t help thinking about that sort of thing, especially when they’d been caught unaware. 

It wasn’t like anything was going on at school to occupy his attention. The only interesting thing happening was that Willow was suddenly being seen in the hallways flirting awkwardly with the short guy who dyed his hair so often Xander had always been mildly surprised it hadn’t long since fallen out. Oz-something. Xander hoped it worked out for her, especially since it meant she had a lot less time for worrying about who Xander was hanging out with. Which brought him right back to his mild preoccupation with his own sexual problems. Well, not problem, that was putting it way too strongly. Issue, maybe. Just a minor issue, hardly worth the time he’d put into working it out.

It all came down to the fact that he had been lonely for so long. He’d always been a pretty tactile person and Jesse and Willow had too. Willow-hugs had been a big part of his life until this past year. It had been the same with Jesse, he and Xander had always been touching: wrestling, goofing off, one-on-one basketball and just friendly arms around each other’s shoulders. Maybe it was the memory of that last desperate hug - Jesse clinging to him when they found him in the tunnels - that had thrown his system out of wack. He’d dreamed of that hug so many times - nightmares in which Jesse’s familiar hug morphed into a cold, imprisoning grip holding him motionless as Jesse’s fangs neared his throat - that it was surprising he wasn’t afraid of touch entirely. 

Since losing both Jesse and Willow, Xander hadn’t had anyone in his life that he could touch or that would touch him until he’d become friends with Spike. Going from lots of physical contact to none at all practically overnight, it was no wonder he was starved for touch of any kind. Since they’d become friends, Spike had touched Xander a lot, just casual, friendly, incidental touches which Xander had soaked up like desert soil offered water. His body had simply gotten its signals crossed because it felt so good to be touched again. Nothing to worry about at all. 

Except that it was happening again. 

Having worked it all out in his head, Xander hadn’t expected there to be any more problems. A good, long session in the shower with visions of bikini clad beauties to inspire him and he’d been good to go. It had been great to have the equipment reporting for active duty again; just one more sign that his life was slowly getting back to normal. Or as normal as it was ever likely to be again, with everything he now knew about living on a Hellmouth. 

He and Spike had gone back to the out of town bar with the pool tables and Spike had offered to give him a few more pointers to help improve his game from what Spike described as “barely adequate”.

Xander had taken him up on it, remembering how badly Spike had wiped the floor with him the last time they played pool. Despite his mock grumbling, he didn’t really mind that Spike was a lot better than him at a lot of things. As he pointed out to the vampire, if he’d had a hundred years to practice, he would expect to be pretty good at stuff too, probably a lot better at them than Spike who clearly had been slacking off if this was as good as he’d gotten after a century of practice.

It was an intriguing thought that Xander couldn’t help pondering sometimes: what would he do with immortality? Not that he wanted to be a vampire, but Xander had thought about it more than once. Would he go the Bill Murray Groundhog Day route and spend all his time learning how to do things really well - become super smart and a pool shark and learn to play a bunch of different instruments and speak 14 languages, or would he just schlep around enjoying himself? He could see why Spike got bored so easily - the guy had done everything so it must be really hard for him to find something new to keep him busy.

Spike had talked angles and strategies and then had begun working on mechanics, demonstrating how to line up shots, scorning the use of a bridge as something a true pool player never had to resort to. 

He worked on Xander’s stance, nudging his legs into the best position to get the maximum power and control for his shots. He patiently adjusted the positioning of Xander’s arms, correcting his grip and showing him how best to sight along the cue. As he demonstrated, his hands would settle on Xander’s hips, shifting them into different positions and lingering as Xander took the shot to ensure Xander didn’t move out of what Spike felt was the correct position. He leaned against Xander as he was bent over the table, sighting along the cue with him and reaching around Xander to adjust the angle of the shot slightly. 

Xander’s body began to react to the closeness and the constant touching. His cock twitched, filling gradually, until Xander was having to hide his erection, chatting nervously in an attempt to distract Spike so he wouldn’t notice what was happening. His anxious fidgeting just made matters worse, as Spike would rest his hands on Xander, steadying him and telling him he needed to relax into the shot, then his hand slid along Xander’s stomach as he pulled Xander further from the table, telling him he was standing too close. Which Xander already knew, he’d been attempting to use the table to hide his erection. It was all Xander could do not to jerk away from Spike’s touch and he knew his face was beet red. He took a gulp of his second beer, hoping the drink would cool him down, and stop his embarrassing reaction to Spike’s touch. 

Spike had a habit of running his hands over his cue, rubbing the wood with almost sensual grace, as he pondered his shots. Xander found himself mesmerized by the slide of Spike’s hand along the length of the cue. Something about the gesture was decidedly sexual, as was the way Spike’s curled tongue peeked out from between his lips whenever he prepared to make his shot.

It was only when Xander had reached the point of wondering whether he needed to take a quick bathroom break to ease his discomfort that something occurred to him. He had been wondering, rather wildly, when exactly Spike’s every movement had become so erotically charged, when the vampire’s entire body had begun to scream of sex. He’d been worrying that it was his perceptions that had changed and wondering how it had happened, when he stopped freaking long enough to actually think about the situation. 

Replaying the events of the past hour, Xander finally was able to think about what was happening rather than just letting his body have the wheel. As soon as he did, it occurred to him that there had been a lot of unnecessary touching tonight. In fact, he was pretty damn sure he’d seen some of Spike’s moves in the romantic comedies Willow loved so much and had forced him and Jesse to watch. If he hadn’t been so freaked out by his body reacting to a male, he would have recognized what Spike was doing a whole lot sooner.

Suddenly very suspicious, Xander turned around quickly ignoring the fact that facing Spike would reveal the erection he had been trying so desperately to hide. Spike looked the picture of innocent helpfulness but Xander could see the laughter lurking in his eyes. Furious, he smacked the vampire hard on the shoulder. “You bastard. You’ve been doing this on purpose,” he accused. 

“Well, yeah.” Spike answered unrepentantly. “Took you long enough to notice.” 

Xander threw his cue down on the table. “Fine, make fun of the dumb kid whose too stupid to know he’s being played with.” He tried to leave but Spike blocked him, all laughter gone from his suddenly serious eyes. Xander threw a punch, aiming for Spike’s stomach but Spike easily blocked it, using his vampiric speed to snatch the moving arm and twist it behind Xander. He snagged Xander’s other wrist and pinned that one too, holding Xander immobile against the pool table. Xander struggled briefly, but he knew how strong Spike was and he stopped almost immediately. 

Spike eased his grip as soon as Xander quit struggling and spoke with quiet sincerity, all mockery gone. “Not making fun of you,” he said. “Didn’t mean it that way.”

Xander yanked his arms free and crossed them over his chest, his face still tight with anger and resentment. “How did you mean it then? ‘Cause it sure seems to me like you were jerking me around for laughs.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Pet…” Xander flinched back slightly at the familiar nickname his face darkening even further and Spike started over. “Xander…” Unable to find the words, he settled for showing the boy what he meant. Reaching out, ignoring Xander’s attempts to push him away, he cupped both hands under the curves of Xander’s ass and pulled his body closer until their groins were pressed firmly against each other. Xander gasped as he felt Spike’s erection riding against his own and leaned his upper body away from the vampire, instinctively trying to get some distance between them.

“Spike?” Xander’s voice was suddenly uncertain, his eyes wide with shock. He clutched the edge of the pool table to steady himself. “What are you doing?”

“Enjoying myself, luv. How ‘bout you?” Spike rocked their hips together and Xander gasped, his face reddening, and Spike almost purred as the scent of arousal got deeper and richer.

“I’m not gay.” Xander blurted, then inhaled sharply as Spike undulated against him, their erections gliding against each other. 

Spike just lifted an eyebrow. “’m not either,” he said calmly, thoroughly enjoying the sensations he was causing and seeing the arousal flare in the boy’s eyes.

Xander bit his lip and for a moment, he relaxed into the movement, his hips tentatively beginning to move with Spike’s. It only lasted a moment before he stiffened again and tried to shift away. His mouth worked soundlessly for a moment, then he managed to say weakly: “Then what’s this all about?”

“Vampire, pet. Demons don’t think in human terms like gay and straight.”

“You want to have sex with me?” Xander’s voice rose incredulously.

“Have for some time.”

“Spike, I’m sorry, but I do think like that. And I’m not gay.” Xander looked embarrassed and uncomfortable but not completely freaked which Spike chose to take as a hopeful sign.

Still keeping their hips pulled together, Spike leaned forward, his eyes intent on Xander’s. “It’s just friction, luv.” His voice was pure sex and Xander shivered, staring wide-eyed at the vampire even as his upper body retreated backwards as Spike moved closer. Spike kept their groins riding together, undulating his hips in a teasing rhythm that kept them both on edge. He continued in a throaty purr: “Just flesh sliding against flesh. Just two bodies bringing each other pleasure. Just a tongue teasing at your nipples and gliding down your body to your cock. Just a mouth, swallowing you whole and sucking hard. Just a hand closing around you and pumping.” 

Spike kept up his movements, sliding his erection against the boy’s the entire time he was speaking and Xander was breathing hard, his eyes dilated, no longer making any attempt to get free. Spike leaned even further into him , until Xander’s elbows on the pool table were the only thing keeping him from falling over completely. His legs had parted as he leaned further backwards and Spike was between them now, their groins still fused, as Spike whispered his last words against Xander’s lips. “Just lips, moving against yours.” 

Spike kissed him, his lips gently coaxing, asking not taking. Xander groaned and his mouth opened blindly under Spike’s. Spike traced his tongue over the parted lips, dipping inside, reveling in finally tasting his boy. Xander tasted of beer and onion and stale breath and it was bloody marvelous.

Xander was kissing him back now, mouth moving tentatively against Spike’s, one hand coming up hesitantly and hovering as if Xander wasn’t sure if he wanted to pull Spike closer or push him away.

Spike gathered his will and forced himself to stop, his lips lingering as he slowly ended the kiss and moved back, releasing his hold on the boy’s ass and helping Xander up until he was fully upright again. He lifted a hand to the boy’s face and cupped his cheek, his thumb running over Xander’s lips as Xander simply stared back at him, his eyes dazed. 

“Your body’s got no problem with it, Xander. Only real question is: will you let yourself want me as much as I want you?”

Xander just continued to gape at him wordlessly and Spike realized the whole bar was avidly watching them. “Come on, pet. Let’s get you home,” he said and steered Xander out of the bar with a hand on his lower back, pleased that Xander didn’t move away from his touch. 

Driving his boy home in silence, Spike was torn. Part of him was screaming to take the boy to the factory, tie him to the bed and just take what he wanted. While Spike knew very well that he might jerk off to that fantasy later tonight, he was struggling against every possessive instinct he had not to actually do that. Part of him was very afraid that if he let the boy out of the car, he wouldn’t ever see Xander again, that he’d pushed too far, too fast and Xander would retreat to the familiar safety of humans and heterosexuality. 

Spike found himself in the unusual position of being completely unable to come up with anything to say. Pulling up to the boy’s house, he switched off the engine and stared out through the windshield, his hands clenched on the steering wheel to stop himself from simply grabbing the boy and keeping him in the car. Finally, realizing that Xander hadn’t moved, he looked over and found the boy watching him with worried, dark eyes.

“Spike? If…if I decide I don’t want to…you know,” he made a vague gesture, “Will we still be friends?” The hesitant tone carried a world of loneliness in it.

Spike almost sagged with relief at the question but managed to hold himself together enough not to. “’Course, pet. What kind of question is that?” The possessive instincts that he had firmly squashed earlier railed internally, accusing him of being soft, of having become a useless prat, but Spike didn’t care. His boy wasn’t going to run from him and that was all that mattered right now.

The worry faded from Xander’s eyes and he gave Spike a lopsided smile. “See you soon?” he said.

“Yeah, luv.” Spike actually found himself frantically trying to come up with a suggestion for a neutral activity, something that wouldn’t push the boy. “Maybe a movie tomorrow night?” he suggested.

“Great! Meet you here?” Xander suddenly blushed as if he realized how much like a date this was sounding.

So much for neutral activities. “Good enough. No sci-fi crap, now.” 

Xander laughed as he got out of the car, leaning back in to say provokingly: “Star Trek revival.”

He laughed again at Spike’s “Bloody hell!” and slammed the door closed.

Spike took off before Xander could see the delighted smile on his own face. No matter how much of a complete girl it made him, he was absurdly grateful that Xander wasn’t freaking and running from him. 

It was because he was a demon and he wouldn’t react well to his prey running, he told himself. If Xander ran, he’d chase the boy and end up forcing him. And that would mean he’d lost the hunt. That was why he was so relieved. Pity he couldn’t come close to believing that himself.

If the boy decided he wanted to be just friends, Spike didn’t know what he’d do. Recalling the rich scent of arousal that had overwhelmed the competing odors in the bar, Spike grinned. Not much chance of that, he thought smugly. Boy was probably jerking off now, thinking of Spike. Teenage hormones would do the rest.


	18. Chapter 18

Well, of course he was thinking about what had happened with Spike. A guy didn’t kiss you and rub you off out of the blue without you needing some time to process it. 

Xander liked to think of himself as a pretty open guy. He had nothing against homosexuality, it was just that he’d never thought of it as something he would be considering for himself one day. Not like he had much choice now, damn sexy vampire. 

The way Spike had put it made sense - that the sex of your partner didn’t matter so long as everybody was having a good time, and Spike had sure proved to Xander that his body could be aroused by another guy. Or at least by Spike. Maybe he wasn’t gay, maybe he was just Spike-sexual. If the fantasies he’d been having since last night were anything to go by, he was very Spike-sexual. Admittedly, he didn’t have a lot of experience but that had been the sexiest thing that had ever happened to him. And his body sure seemed to want more of the same. 

Truthfully, he had a lot less problem with the gay issue than he did with the evil vampire issue - the one he’d been shelving for some time now because he wasn’t ready to deal with it. He wasn’t sure he should get even more involved with Spike until he’d actually taken that one off the shelf and figured out what to do about it. Except he still wasn’t ready. 

A small voice in his head kept suggesting that Spike might do things for a lover he wouldn’t do for a friend. After a brief side trip where his hormones hijacked his brain to think about the kinds of things his body wanted Spike to do to it, Xander got back on track and considered the idea seriously. The problem was that common sense said that it never worked when someone started a relationship determined to change the other person. ‘I love you, now become a completely different person’ just seemed like a bad plan. And he had good authority to back him up on that - ok, daytime tv, too-sick-to-reach-the-remote authority - but authority nonetheless.

On the other hand, could he live with himself if he closed his eyes permanently to the fact that Spike killed people? He suspected that Spike was already shielding him from it. Given their first couple of conversations, it probably wasn’t natural that the vampire never mentioned feeding around him and in fact never drank blood around him. So Spike would probably help him live in the land of denial, if that’s what he wanted. He just wasn’t sure how long he could play deaf, dumb and blind.

Maybe he should discuss it with Spike. Just point blank ask Spike if he was killing people and then tell Spike his concerns. At least that way Spike would know what Xander’s problem was.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Angel?” Xander asked in surprise. He hadn’t seen the vampire since that night in the library when they’d all agreed to a truce. Xander had been sitting on the curb a half block down from his house, waiting for Spike. He never waited for the vampire to pick him up in front of his house because he really wanted his parents and Spike to remain unmix-y things. He’d been bouncing his leg nervously as he sat there and had risen to his feet at the sound of someone approaching. 

“Xander,” Angel greeted him, emerging further from the shadows. “I need to talk to you about Spike.”

“Is something wrong?”

“Not in the way you mean,” Angel said slowly, “but I need to make sure that you understand what you’re getting in to.”

Xander hoped the early evening dusk was dark enough to hide his blush from vampire eyes. Geez, you’d think Spike could wait until Xander decided what he wanted to do before telling his dad about them. “Getting in to?” he repeated stupidly, going for the ‘I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about’ plan.

“Xander,” Angel repeated patiently, “I may have a soul but I’m still a vampire and I have vampire senses. Spike’s scent is all over you. Spike and I have been talking recently and he’s told me about you.” 

He paused but Xander didn’t respond. His first reaction had been to automatically protest that he’d showered, several times in fact since he’d last seen Spike, although some of those weren’t really about washing. His voice died before he got a single word out as he suddenly realized the implications of what Angel had just said. A wave of embarrassment and anger swept over him - he’d forgotten about a vampire’s sense of smell. His anger was at himself. What had been the point of reading all those books if he didn’t use the information he’d learned? If there had been a handy wall, Xander would have beaten his head against it. What an idiot he’d been, trying to hide his arousal from Spike when the damn vampire could smell it the whole time. No wonder Spike had been so confident that Xander was reacting to him. 

Realizing Angel was waiting for some kind of response, Xander looked back at the vampire who was still standing motionless, half in shadow as he always seemed to be. He had no idea what to say but Angel continued.

“Spike is a vampire. His idea of a relationship is not the same as a human’s. Vampires are possessive and territorial about their sexual partners. If you let Spike claim you, you won’t ever be able to get away from him. He’ll turn you into a vampire as soon as you reach his ideal age and you won’t be able to stop him. Is that what you really want?”

Xander was shocked by Angel’s view of what lay ahead. He didn’t have much use for Angel but his words echoed some of Xander’s own fears. Worse than any lingering homophobic concerns was Xander’s worry that he was getting in over his head with Spike. Spike had been with Drusilla for 100 years. Xander was 17 years old. What would a century old vampire want with a teenager? Being friends was one thing but why would Spike want a teenaged, human lover? 

“Spike said he won’t turn me,” he told Angel.

Angel shook his head sadly. “He may even mean it - now. But in 15 or 20 years, when you are entering middle age, do you really think he will let you continue sliding downhill into old age? If he loves you, he won’t be willing to lose you. And if he doesn’t love you, well I’m afraid you’ll have been long dead by then. He’ll kill you as soon as you cease to amuse him.”

“He…he’s never made a Childe before,” was all Xander could think to say.

“Is that what he’s told you?” Angel sighed heavily. “Xander, Spike has made several childer. None of them has lived longer than a few years. He gets bored with them and stakes them.” Angel shook his head again, regret filling his features. “It isn’t uncommon with vampires to behave that way. And Spike has always been impatient.” Angel looked, if possible, even sadder and continued: “I’m sorry to have to tell you this but I don’t remember Spike ever keeping a human lover around for more than a few months.” 

Studying the shocked-speechless Xander for a moment, Angel finally went on: “You’re a bright boy, you can make your own decision but I wanted you to know all the facts before you decided to go any further. Spike is my Childe but I am realistic about his nature.”

Angel faded back into the shadows leaving Xander standing numbly on the curb. As soon as Angel was gone, he sank down to the ground before his unsteady legs collapsed under him.

Could any of that be true? Had Spike really lied to him about something as fundamental as whether he had kids? Childer, whatever. Yeah, human parents and vampire Sires were not the same but the Sire-Childe relationship was important. Spike had killed his kids? Spike had had human lovers before and killed them? Spike was going to make him a vampire? 

If any of that was true, then Spike had lied to him repeatedly. To his face and by omission. Xander buried his head in his hands, gripping his hair tightly enough to hurt and using the pain to try and focus enough to think. Ten minutes ago, he would have sworn he knew Spike. Angel was supposed to be one of the good guys, wasn’t he? Soul-having, repenting of past evil, card carrying white hat. He couldn’t have made all that up.

Xander rolled to his hands and knees, breathing hard, fighting the nausea that threatened to empty his stomach right here. Struggling for control, to think, he felt like the world that had just begun settling back into something approaching normal had just been jerked out from under him again. He got to his feet shakily. He needed to leave before Spike got here. 

Nearly hyperventilating, he could only think of one place to go: Jesse’s grave. He needed to talk to Jesse.

Hearing the familiar loud noise of the DeSoto’s engine, Xander spun around, his heart hammering in his chest. For a moment, he was on the brink of running. He was so not ready to see Spike, he had to figure out what he was going to do first.

As the familiar car pulled up with Spike’s typical last second braking, Xander found his panic attack fading. He closed his eyes for a moment and concentrated on breathing deeply, steadying himself and feeling the panic gradually fading, flowing out of him even as Spike’s usual godawful music surrounded him. He didn’t care what he looked like, standing there with his eyes closed and his hand pressed to his chest as he waited for his breathing and heart rate to go back to normal. 

He wasn’t going to run away from this. He was staying put and dealing with it. He’d accused Angel once of not knowing who Spike was now. He wasn’t going to judge Spike by what Angel thought of Spike’s past history. He’d ask Spike about it.

And if Spike said it was all true, well he’d deal with that too. Somehow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Waiting in the car, watching his boy, Spike forced himself not to get out of the car and go over to him. It was obvious that Xander was panicking, probably because, now that Spike had driven up, Xander was actually being confronted with the reality of a “date” with Spike. However casually the two of them had made their plans for tonight, it was a very date-like event and Xander was obviously freaking out. 

Spike decided to wait. Xander had his eyes closed and was breathing deeply and it was clear he was fighting for control. He even left the music turned up loud and didn’t adjust the volume down so he could hear his boy’s breathing and heart rate. Not that he really needed to hear it to confirm that Xander was panicking. The boy’s symptoms were so obvious, he might as well have a sign over his head reading “human having panic attack”. 

Spike forced himself to sit still and not display any signs of impatience or agitation. He fished inside his pockets and pulled out his cigarette and lighter. He needed the steadying warmth and taste of the smoke to calm himself down. Given Xander’s reaction to Spike’s arrival, the boy wasn’t going to accept a sexual relationship, and that left Spike struggling against his own instinct to simply drag the boy back to the factory with him. 

He hadn’t let himself really consider the possibility that Xander couldn’t be seduced willingly into a sexual relationship. Spike wasn’t sure he could accept remaining just friends with the boy. Xander was his. He’d known that for a long time now. Letting the boy hold him at arm’s length had never been on the program. 

His thoughts were interrupted by the door opening and Xander climbing into the car. The boy reached over and snapped off the radio, then just looked at Spike, studying him like he didn’t know who Spike was anymore. 

Spike met his eyes squarely and waited for Xander to tell him he didn’t want to see him anymore. 

“Have you been lying to me?”

“What?” It was so different from what he’d expected that Spike actually gaped at Xander for a moment, before snapping his jaw closed. “What are you talking about?”

“Are you planning on turning me into a vampire?” 

Whatever was going on in his boy’s head, he was deadly serious. Confusion, anger, fear, hurt, the scents were mixed and fighting for dominance. “I’ve thought about it,” Spike answered truthfully. He knew that, whatever this was about, it was a pivotal moment and he couldn’t be less than truthful, Xander would know. “Thought about it a lot,” he admitted. “But something keeps stopping me. I don’t know what, or why, but somehow I don’t seem to want to turn you.”

Xander nodded, accepting Spike’s answer. “Have you ever made a Childe?”

Spike’s eyebrows rose. “No. Never wanted the responsibility, Dru took enough of my time and energy.” Xander sat back in his seat properly, facing front, and seemed to be considering something. “What’s going on, luv? Why all the questions?”

Xander didn’t answer for a minute, staring out into the darkness, with a thoughtful look. The mingled scents of anger and fear faded, to Spike’s relief. Finally, he looked back at Spike. “I think Angel is trying to break us up,” he announced.

“What are you talking about?” Spike was having a hard time following this conversation, none of it was making sense to him and none of it seemed to relate to last night.

“He told me that you had been lying to me and that you were going to make me a vampire if we got involved. He also said that you had created childer and killed them…” Spike’s outraged roar interrupted him.

“That’s a bloody lie! Who the hell does that asshole think he is? He’s the unnatural Childe who staked his own Sire because he was obsessed with a fucking Slayer.” His anger was too great to be contained inside the car, Spike slammed the gearshift into park and shoved his door open. Getting out, he paced furiously up and down beside the car, swearing at Angelus in several languages.

How dare that sanctimonious prig say such things about him? Angelus knew how loyal Spike was to the beings he cared about. Angelus had once been on that short list of beings, after all. And to say it after Spike had allowed Angel to meet with him and try and re-connect with the last remaining family either of them had, just added to Spike’s rage. He didn’t care about his Sire’s reasons or what his motives had been, to suggest that Spike would stake his own childer was something he wouldn’t forgive. If Spike ever made a Childe, he would never mistreat it, much less stake it. Spike valued family, unlike fucking Angelus who’d thought nothing of abandoning his damaged Childe and leaving her for Spike to take care of. 

Gradually, he became aware of Xander, standing outside the car on his own side, leaning against the roof and watching him. Spike glared at him with golden-eyed fury. “What else did my loving Sire tell you?” he snarled.

“He said you had had human lovers before and that you would either stake them or turn them into vampires within a year,” Xander repeated.

“Do you believe him?” Spike stalked closer, all predator, his demonic features thrown into harsher contrast by his outraged fury.

“He took me by surprise and I didn’t know what to think at first. But then I remembered the Watcher notes about you that Willow made me read. They said a lot of things about you but they didn’t mention you ever Siring a Childe. The Watchers might not have mentioned a human lover, but they seem pretty big on tracking vampire lines. So, no, I don’t believe him. That’s why I think he’s trying to break us up.” Xander shrugged, unperturbed by Spike’s still simmering anger. “I think he said the things he knew would freak me out the most. It almost worked. When I heard your car coming, I almost ran. But I figured I’d ask you about what Angel said.”

“That bastard!” Spike answered succinctly. He spun away and started pacing again. Xander simply waited. It had taken him a few minutes to calm down, Spike deserved the same.

Spike finally looked over at Xander again. “Look, pet, I have to leave. I need to deal with Angelus. I promise we’ll talk, but not tonight.”

Xander nodded. “I’ll see you soon,” he said and simply walked home, hearing the slam of the DeSoto’s door and the roar of the engine as Spike tore away from the curb.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Returning to the factory, Spike was still seething with resentment. It was one thing for his Sire to interfere in his relationships, if Angel was a proper Sire, he’d have had the right to forbid a Childe from turning a human or from making a Claim. “Angel” hadn’t been his Sire for a century, it was too bloody late for Captain Hair Gel to try and re-assert authority now, and lying about Spike to Xander was the last fucking straw. Wanker couldn’t even interfere properly. Had to try and scare Xander off instead of coming to Spike directly.

After leaving Xander, Spike had gone looking for Angelus without success. He wasn’t at that human-style apartment of his and a quick sweep through town hadn’t turned him up. Angelus didn’t really have any usual haunts - as far as Spike could tell his Sire spent all his time either alone in his apartment or with the Slayer. Unable to find Angelus, his anger still riding high, Spike decided to return to the factory and send his minions out hunting as well. With more eyes looking, maybe one of them would get lucky. 

His footsteps sounded loudly on the concrete floor as he stalked into the factory. He’d considered simply waiting for Angelus in his apartment, bastard had to return sometime, but he’d nixed that idea almost at once. He wasn’t risking being trapped in that above-ground deathtrap Angelus had chosen to live in. If his minions couldn’t find Angelus, Spike would deal with him first thing tomorrow after sundown. 

Spike was still so worked up he wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings. He looked up for the first time since entering the factory and stopped in shock. Angelus was sitting casually in Spike’s usual seat, the one no-one else ever sat in, and talking with a double handful of Spike’s minions.

Spike swore quietly to himself. Angelus had set him up, ensuring their confrontation happened in front of Spike’s minions. Trying to make Spike look weak, either by goading him into an out of control display of temper or by revealing that Spike was courting a human. Well, Spike hadn’t been a fledgling in a long time as Angelus was about to find out.

“Angelus! What brings you here to where vampires live? The Slayer pouting at you?”

The minions reacted as expected, the reminder that Angelus was dating the Slayer had them shifting in discomfort and disapproving looks appeared on the faces of a couple of the braver ones. 

Angelus just smiled and tsked at him. “Spike, my boy, still haven’t mastered long range planning, have you? Well, you’re still young.” 

“Old enough to have been a Master for a century,” Spike shot back. “Too bad you were too busy nursing that bloody soul of yours to see it.”

At the mention of the soul, the minions became outright uneasy, shifting away from the two angry Masters. Older vampires loved to talk about the vampire cursed with a soul. Over the decades, it had become a cautionary tale about messing with magical types. Although the details had become distorted, the heart of the story remained intact. Spike had never felt the need to enlighten any other vampire as to the identity to the vampire with a soul. The legendary idiot who had killed the wrong gypsy was not someone he particularly wanted others to know was in his lineage. It was bloody embarrassing having to admit the Souled Vampire was his Sire.

Angelus ignored the minions, staring at Spike and taking a deep drag on his cigarette. Studying his Sire, Spike realized that something was off. He hadn’t ever seen Angelus smoke since he got the bloody soul. Like everything else that made him feel even remotely good, Angelus had given up smoking. Smoking, feeding, sex, the company of other vampires, Angelus had given it all up. He didn’t even seem to enjoy fighting anymore. But now… Angelus was wearing silk and leather, smoking, and - Spike inhaled deeply - he smelled faintly of sex and human blood.

“Angelus?” he asked questioningly, wondering what the hell was going on. 

“Yeah, it’s really me. What can I say? Had a soul, now it’s gone.” 

For one second, Spike forgot his grievance in the shock of joy that went through him. His Sire was back! 

“This is great!” he said enthusiastically. “How did it happen?”

“Don’t know, don’t really care. The only important thing is: I’m back.” Angelus held his cigarette up, studying the lit end like it held the meaning of life. “And things are going to change around here.”

Spike’s pleasure in his Sire’s return vanished in the wave of renewed resentment and apprehension. Turning to the fascinated minions, who were listening avidly to the exchange between the two Master vampires, he snarled. “All of you, get the hell out - now! I want this place cleared in 20 seconds. Anyone still here in 21 seconds is dust.” The minions scattered and ran, Spike’s voice chasing them out into the early morning darkness. “Find somewhere else to spend the day. Anyone who returns here before sunset will regret it.”

Turning back to Angelus, Spike considered ordering his Sire to get out of his chair, but abandoned the idea. It was a petty point, not worth arguing over with the minions gone and remaining seated while Spike was standing left Angelus at a physical disadvantage. Instead, he growled: “What the hell do you mean by saying I’ve staked my own childer?”

“Lighten up, Spike. It was a joke.” Angelus had an all too familiar mocking smile that Spike realized he hadn’t missed at all. 

“Well, having staked your own Sire, I can see how you might think that it was funny but I’m afraid your sense of humor isn’t shared by the rest of us. Don’t do it again. And while we’re on the subject, don’t mess with my boy again.”

“Or what?” Angelus still had that smirk on his face, his eyebrows raised contemptuously.

“Or I just might learn to share your sense of humor and decide to find out what it feels like to have my Sire turn to ashes around my stake.” Just because he didn’t want to dust Angelus, didn’t mean he wouldn’t to protect what was his.

“Think you can take me?”

“I’m not the one who’s been living on pig swill and not fighting for a century. Yeah, I think I can take you without even working up a sweat.”

Angelus laughed, leaning back in the chair, arms crossed behind his head but Spike didn’t miss the wary look in his eyes. “Good for you, boy. Maybe you have become a Master after all.”

“Not just a Master, Master of this town. You going to have a problem with that?”

“No, I’ve got other plans. I’m thinking of concentrating on the Slayer for a bit. Don’t worry, Spike,” he smiled patronizingly, “that will keep me busy and out of your hair. For awhile.” Angelus jumped to his feet. “Do you have a room for your Sire, boy? Given the change in my outlook, I don’t really fancy staying in my old place.”

Spike had been expecting this and he didn’t really have a choice. If he turned Angelus away, that was just asking for Angelus to set up a rival Court and would give him room to challenge Spike for control. Plus, Angelus was his Sire, he really couldn’t refuse him shelter. “Pick any room but mine,” he said, hiding his reluctance. “Just throw anything in there out into the hall, the minions can clean it up when they return.”

“Pity you felt you had to throw them out for the entire day,” Angelus commiserated with fake sympathy, “but I can understand you being afraid of appearing weak in front of them.”

“Wasn’t worried about that,” Spike answered sharply. “Just didn’t want to air any more family business around them.” 

“Of course.” Angelus’ agreement was patently insincere.

“Bugger off,” Spike snapped. He left in a swirl of coat and attitude before Angelus had a chance to respond, his footsteps sounding loudly on the concrete as he stalked to his own room. 

Bloody hell! His Sire’s return was going to be tricky to handle. The moment of joy that his Sire was back had already vanished under the realization that Angelus was going to create problems for the sheer pleasure of causing chaos. Careful what you wish for on a Hellmouth is too bloody right, he thought resignedly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander pounded on the door to Angel’s apartment. Getting no answer, he tried the handle and found it locked. He hammered on the door with his fist again.

“Angel, open the goddamn door!”

The door remained frustratingly closed. Xander growled under his breath. What a time for the vampire to decide to get a life. Not prepared to kick the door down, he retreated. He needed to go to school anyway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Buffy!” Xander jogged to catch up with her in the hall. “Where’s your boyfriend? I need to talk to him.”

Buffy bit her lip and looked away. “I don’t know.”

“Next time you see him, you tell him that if he ever pulls a stunt like that again, I’ll kill him.” 

“What are you talking about?” Willow put a comforting arm around Buffy and answered for her. “What did Angel do?” 

Xander hesitated for a second, looking more closely at Buffy. Her eyes were red-rimmed like she’d been crying recently and her usual assertiveness was absent. Xander didn’t really care what was bothering Buffy but ordinarily he would never have harassed someone who was as upset as Buffy obviously was. After the barest pause, he said briefly: “Angel knows what I’m talking about. Just tell him.”

“Xander, something happened to Angel the other night. His soul is gone.”

“What?” That made even less sense than Angel’s cursed by gypsies story. “How do you lose a soul? Did he check where he usually leaves it?”

“It’s not funny, Xander.” 

“Actually, the whole gypsy curse thing has always struck me as pretty funny, in a Ripley’s Believe-it-or-Not kind of way.”

“Shut up, Xander.” Buffy spoke for the first time, her eyes wet with tears and her voice shaky. “Don’t make jokes about this, it’s deadly serious.”

“Angel’s reverted to being a normal vampire. He’s promised to kill all of Buffy’s friends,” Willow explained, her eyes troubled. She lifted her free hand to rub gingerly at her throat for a moment as she spoke.

Xander digested that. “When did this happen?” he asked.

“The night before last,” Willow answered. 

“You guys have known about this for two days?” Xander was livid. “Why am I only hearing about this now?” 

“Because it’s none of your business,” Buffy answered. She’d blinked back the unshed tears and her voice had steadied. “It’s not your problem and we’re dealing with it.”

“Excuse me? I’m friends with Spike, remember? Which makes me a human who’s friends with Angel’s Childe. You don’t think that an unsouled Angel will maybe have a problem with that?” He looked at both of them, making no attempt to hide his anger. “Not to mention that I was just pounding on Angel’s door demanding that he talk to me. I guess I should just be grateful that he wasn’t home this morning.”

He threw up his arms in disgust, unable to fully express how angry and hurt he was. He continued, his voice overriding theirs as they both opened their mouths to respond. “Thanks so much for the warning, guys. Remind me to give you the same kind of heads up the next time there’s a man-eating tiger in your front yard.”

He didn’t wait to hear any explanations or excuses from either of them, turning abruptly and heading for his locker. He was so furious with them both that he didn’t trust himself to be around them. He needed to warn Spike about his Sire. He didn’t know if Angelus losing his soul would be a problem for Spike but he wasn’t going to play wait and see like the girls had obviously done. None of his business, god how lame could you get?

Throwing his books into his locker, Xander stalked out into the late morning sun, heading for Spike’s place.


	19. Chapter 19

Xander stopped as soon as the factory came into view and hesitated as he considered how to get Spike’s attention. He could just wait outside like he had before but it wasn’t even noon yet. It was one thing to stand outside like an idiot, knowing sunset wasn’t far off but he wasn’t going to stand out here all day. He knew there were sewer tunnels that allowed the vampires to get around during the day but he didn’t know where they led or how to arrange to meet Spike in them, much less how to actually find Spike once he was inside the tunnels. Plus, gross, he really didn’t want to go touring through Sunnydale’s sewers looking for Spike.

Spike had told him that he’d warned the vampires living in the factory that Xander wasn’t to be touched but he’d also said pointedly that Xander shouldn’t trust minions to be either smart enough to remember the order or to have enough self-control to obey it, so that made Xander uneasy about simply walking up to the door and knocking. The door was situated under enough of an overhang that someone inside could reach out and drag a human inside without getting burned by the sun.

Finally, he gathered a handful of gravel from the edge of the road and walked the rest of the way to the building. Standing back about 20 feet so that he could be clearly seen from the upper windows, he starting pitching the gravel pieces one at a time at the windows above the door, feeling ridiculously like someone trying to catch their girlfriend’s attention without waking her father. He grinned as he threw another pebble, listening to it rattle against the glass and hoping it sounded as loud inside as it did outside. He made a mental note to himself to tease Spike about this one day. After all, it was Spike in the girlfriend role, not him. 

He’d used up his gravel pieces and was well through a second handful before he got a response. The door opened inwards and Xander moved closer, careful to stay fully in the sun and out of grabbing reach of the interior.

“Spike?” he said questioningly.

Spike’s voice answered quietly from behind the shelter of the door: “Come in, ya daft bugger.”

Xander relaxed and entered the dim interior. Spike closed the door as soon as he was through it and Xander turned blind, unadjusted eyes towards the familiar smell of cigarettes, whiskey, and leather. 

“Why’re you here?” Spike asked, still speaking far more quietly than normal. 

“Something’s happened and I really thought you should know about it. I didn’t think it could wait until tonight.” Xander took a deep breath. “Angel doesn’t have a soul anymore. I realize it sounds incredibly lame but apparently his soul’s gone. I think that’s why he said those things about you.”

“I’m hurt.” Angel’s mocking voice announced from behind him, echoing loudly in the empty room. 

Xander spun around in shock and squinted through the dim light in the direction of the voice. He could just make out the faint outline of the vampire as he sauntered into the main room from the back. Too shocked to move, he barely took in the rest of what Angel was saying. 

“And here I was simply trying to warn you about vampires - how they’ll do things behind your back that you just don’t expect. Like inviting returning family to live with them.” He smiled genially but Xander felt a cold shiver at the inhuman cruelty he sensed lurking behind the silky voice and warm smile. It might be just his imagination, because admittedly he didn’t like Angel in any incarnation, but he didn’t think so. The menace radiating off the vampire felt very real.

Xander’s disbelieving stare turned back to Spike. “What the hell is he doing here?” he asked furiously.

“It's complicated.” Spike answered in his normal tones and Xander’s anger grew as he realized that Spike had been talking quietly hoping Angel wouldn’t hear them. He obviously hadn’t wanted Xander to know Angel was at the factory. 

“I’ll bet it is. The last time I saw you, you were pacing up and down and swearing about him. And now suddenly you're roommates? What's that about?” Underneath his anger, Xander’s bewildered hurt was palpable. 

“Pet…”

“Come on, Spike, the boy deserves the truth,” Angelus put in with a smirk.

“Shut your yap,” Spike snarled at him.

If possible, Xander’s heart sank even further. It sounded like Spike had been keeping something from him after all. Well, he wasn’t going to stick around for the two vampires to make fun of. “Guess I didn’t really need to warn you about Angel after all,” he said bitterly. “You two do whatever you want. I’m gone.”

Spike’s hand shot out to stop him as he turned towards the door. “No!”

“Let him go,” Angel advised with malicious enjoyment. “The boy doesn't understand how it is with vampires. Sad, isn’t it, but that’s what you get for getting involved with humans.”

Xander jerked his arm free, taking advantage of Spike’s momentary distraction as the younger vampire threw a punch at Angel with his free hand. He followed through immediately, just like Spike had taught him, shoving Spike back and leaping for the door. In one quick move, he jerked it open, causing both vampires to step back instinctively from the threat of the sun’s rays, giving Xander the second he needed to dive through the opening and out into the sunlight before either vampire could make a move to stop him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of the door slamming echoed through the old building and Spike growled in frustration at the sunlight that kept him from following Xander. Fists clenched, he glared at Angelus, his temper rising uncontrollably as the sound of running footsteps outside gradually faded into the distance. 

“Oh, he’s fun. I see why you like him.” Angel grinned salaciously at Spike.

“Don’t even think about it, Angelus. He’s mine.”

“Spike, my boy, he’s already slipping through your fingers.” Mocking laughter rippled through Angelus’ tones. “I didn’t see any claiming marks. Makes the boy up for grabs in my book.” Angel shook his head in mock sympathy. “You really haven’t learned anything, have you? You just can’t seem to hold on to the things you want. I mean, you couldn’t even keep Dru from straying.” 

Spike swung at him with a furious snarl. Angelus laughed, parrying the blow and throwing one of his own that landed hard, staggering Spike. “Is that the best you’ve got?” he taunted.

His thread-thin hold on his temper snapped and Spike launched himself at his Sire. He threw a rapid series of blows but his out-of-control rage effected his fighting skills. Angelus, far more in control, was able to block the majority of the blows and struck several of his own. “Come on, boy, I thought you said you could take me.”

Spike spun away from the fight just long enough to grab a metal bar left lying near the wall. Snatching it up, he turned back to his Sire, who was still laughing. Angelus was careless in his overconfidence and that mistake was going to cost him dearly. Spike swung the bar in a low, vicious arc, smashing it into Angelus’ ribs. 

Angelus crashed into the wall, impacting with such force he bounced off it and crumpled to the floor. He was only down for a second but it was more than enough for the younger vampire. Spike pounced on him, raising the pipe and bringing it down savagely on his Sire’s back three more times. “Xander. Dru. Me.” he spat out with each strike of the metal on flesh. 

Before Angelus could move, Spike struck again. He kicked Angelus hard, using the momentum from the kick to flip the other vampire onto his back. He reversed his grip, holding the bar with both hands and brought it down into Angelus’ stomach with all his strength. Angelus screamed as the metal drove into him, tearing his flesh open and boring relentlessly through him. Spike leaned his full weight on the bar, continuing to push it through until it erupted from Angelus’ back, hitting the concrete with a clang and pinning Angelus to the floor. Keeping his weight on the bar, Spike twisted it viciously, thoroughly enjoying Angelus’ renewed screams. 

“Now,” Spike’s rage was under control again; ice cold fury had replaced the burning anger. “You are going to behave yourself or I will kill you.” he said, each word dropping slowly and distinctly from his lips. “You will leave Xander alone or you will beg to be staked.” He shifted the metal bar sideways for emphasis, smiling coldly as Angelus screamed in pain. 

He waited a moment longer, watching Angelus carefully, then jerked the bar free in one swift pull. Staring down at his Sire, he watched unemotionally as Angelus rolled painfully to his feet, one hand pressed hard to his stomach to stem the flow of the blood pouring from the hole in his guts. Spike watched the agony Angelus couldn’t hide with no small amount of satisfaction 

Leaning heavily against the wall, Angelus managed to glare at him. Spike hefted the bar again and waited, eyebrows raised inquiringly. “Fine, keep the brat,” Angelus said hoarsely, grimacing with pain as he tried to move. Spike stepped back and let Angelus pass as the other vampire limped slowly away, clinging to the wall for support. 

Spike spun the metal bar away from him, hearing it clatter across the floor. Damnit! Why did Xander have to pick today of all days to visit? And damn Angelus for being such a trouble-making bastard. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander didn’t even know why he was running - it wasn’t like Spike could follow him. But running put distance between himself and Spike, which was what he felt like he needed right now. He gradually slowed to a walk, breathing heavily but kept moving, wandering randomly through town. He wasn’t ready to think about what had just happened but he was too upset and restless to even consider returning to school.

Looking around him, he discovered that his aimless movements had brought him near Mr. Olsen’s house. That was a good thought. Maybe going to see Mr. Olsen would help him calm down enough to think.

The Olsens were working in the garden when Xander arrived. Neither of them said anything directly about it being a school day, although Mr. Olsen asked Xander if he was all right. Xander just said he was restless and couldn't concentrate in class and had decided to take the day off. The Olsens seemed to accept that and simply invited Xander to join them in the garden and either watch or help, whichever he felt like.

Their undemanding company was exactly what he needed. It was surprisingly peaceful pulling weeds in the warm sun. His parents didn’t do any yard work and Xander himself hadn’t done anything beyond lawn mowing, so he’d never spent much time with plants. The Olsens clearly loved their garden. Mrs. Olsen talked about, and sometimes to, the plants like they were old friends as she puttered around doing minor pruning of bushes that looked fine to Xander. Mr. Olsen surprisingly didn't say much as he worked but he hummed quietly in a low bass, occasionally breaking into snatches of actual song.

Sitting on the grass, armed with a long tool with a forked point on the end, Xander spent his time pulling the dandelions that were invading the lawn. Mr. Olsen showed him how to use the tool to help get the full root out of the ground so the weed wouldn't grow back but then left him to his own devices, thanking Xander and admitting he couldn’t bend down comfortably enough anymore to keep up with the dandelions. With the afternoon sun slanting warmly through the trees, the soft patter of Mrs. Olsen's voice counterpointed by Mr. Olsen's tuneless humming, Xander felt his anger and resentment vanishing in a quiet feeling of contentment that was all too rare in his life, especially recently.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Xander left the Olsens’ house, he felt calmer than he had in a long time. He wondered if it was the gardening or the Olsens themselves that had such a relaxing effect. He even found himself wondering if he should start a small garden at his house but then dismissed the idea almost immediately. Any potential soothing benefit would be destroyed immediately by his father’s inevitable loud-voiced disdain for such a wimpy activity. His father was not a believer in sensitive, new age guys. He was much more a proponent of beer-guzzling, football watching, excess testosterone shedding, male-bonding type activities. Or so he claimed. His father didn’t actually seem to have any friends, male or female, so it was hard to tell if he really interacted with other guys that way. Not that Xander cared one way or another but, in any case, no garden at the old homestead, that was for sure.

He found he was walking away from his house, which was probably a good thing if he wanted to get some calm, rational thinking in. Despite what had happened, he knew Spike would come looking for him as soon as the sun set, so he’d better figure out what he wanted to say to the vampire before then.

Suddenly sure of his destination, Xander headed for Jesse’s grave. Maybe talking it over with Jesse would help get it clear in his own head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Thought I might find you here, pet.” 

It hadn’t been difficult figuring out where he would find his boy. Spike had paced the factory in frustration for hours, waiting for sunset and ignoring Angelus’ whines from his room. Served him right that he was in pain. Spike had left the factory when the sun was barely below the horizon and moved quickly through the early dusk heading for the small park where Xander had buried his friend. His boy always seemed to end up there when he was upset.

Xander didn’t look up from his study of the grass. “I needed to think.”

Spike sat down on the bench. “Reached a conclusion?” It was harder than he liked to keep his question casual.

“Yeah. I’ve been thinking that I may have overreacted.” His head came up and he gave Spike a hard look. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m still mad at you. I’m just not really sure I have the right to be.”

Spike shook his head and let out a short bark of laughter. 

Xander glared at him. “Do the words ‘thin ice’ mean anything to you?”

Spike was still smiling as he said: “Sorry, luv. It’s just that wasn’t what I expected. Not many people surprise me,” he quirked one eyebrow, looking sideways down at Xander who still sat cross-legged on the grass. “Like it that you do. But that doesn’t mean I understood that last bit.”

“I’ve been thinking about my dad. He’s a real jerk a lot of the time but if he came to my house and said he needed a place to stay, I don’t think I’d turn him away.” He sighed and looked away. “Angel really messed with me last night and it completely freaked me out, so I’m not happy that he’s living with you, but I know there’s a bunch of other vampires already staying at the factory, so” he made a vague gesture “on some levels, I guess it doesn’t really change anything if Angel starts living there too.”

Spike was stunned. He’d come after Xander fully expecting to have to explain himself, no matter how much it rankled to have to justify his actions to anyone. Much as he hated to admit it, Angelus was right about one thing: humans didn’t understand vampire relationships. For Xander’s sake, Spike had been prepared to explain vampire politics and family relationships and why he’d felt compelled to let his Sire stay in his Court, no matter how angry he’d been with Angelus. He was incredibly relieved he apparently wasn’t going to have to try and put the complexities into terms a human would understand.

Xander had fallen silent and Spike waited, considering what Xander had said and sure the boy wasn’t finished yet. He watched as Xander pulled handfuls of grass and let the blades trickle through his fingers. Whatever he was working himself up to say, Spike was afraid he wouldn’t like it. Finally, Xander spoke again, breaking the long silence between them but not looking up from the blades of grass he was still sifting through as if he was looking for answers in them. 

“Spike, I’ve known you were a vampire since the first time we met. But we became friends and I didn’t really want to think about you being a vampire. I mean it’s one thing to admire your strength and skill and its another to think about the fact that you kill people.” He sighed heavily again and seemed to be struggling for words.

“I guess what I’m saying is that Angel may be a jerk but he isn’t really the problem. He’s just kind of brought the problem to a head.” Xander dropped the grass he’d been playing with and looked up at Spike, his eyes miserable but direct and full of determination. 

“You’re a vampire, Spike and I’m a human. The bottom line is that I don’t see how I can stay friends with you, knowing that you’re killing people when we’re not together. I know that it’s what vampires do but I’m not a vampire.” His voice dropped to little more than a whisper. “I like you and maybe I even more than just like you, but I don’t think that I can live with myself if I just close my eyes indefinitely to the fact that you kill people.”

“I’m not.” 

Spike’s voice was so quiet that Xander almost thought he’d imagined it. “Not what?” 

“Not killing humans. Haven’t for awhile now.”

It hadn’t really been a conscious decision on Spike’s part to stop killing when he fed. He’d known for weeks that his boy was eventually going to raise the issue. No surprise there: humans always had a problem with it. The real shocker was that Xander had never directly asked Spike to stop killing. He’d been half expecting it as an inevitable step in his seduction of the boy: an “I’ll sleep with you if you stop killing humans” ploy. 

Spike had surprised himself a few weeks back when he’d found himself dropping his prey one night before he’d drained the girl dry. He’d told himself he just wasn’t in the mood and that little self-deceit had lasted until the next night, when he’d done the same thing.

It really wasn’t a big deal in some ways: although there was some right twaddle out there about vampires gaining strength and even psychic powers from feeding off the deaths of humans, none of it was true. Vampires needed blood, not the death of their victims. Which was why his Sire was such a complete prat for drinking pigs’ blood all these years. In other ways, it was huge. Killing might not be necessary for a vampire to survive but it was great fun to feel a neck crack between your hands or to tear someone’s spine out just because you could. If it became known that he wasn’t killing humans, other vampires would think he’d gone soft and was an easy challenge. Spike had been extremely careful that no-one knew he wasn’t killing his prey. He also had indulged in a few very public thrashings of demons for the sheer pleasure of it which had both kept Spike in fighting trim and satisfied his need for a spot of violence now and then. It didn’t hurt his reputation to be known to occasionally pick fights with demons twice his size just for the hell of it.

Xander stared at him and Spike was just grateful that vampire physiology didn’t allow for blushes. He shrugged carelessly. “I feed but I don’t drain them. Just take a bit and let ‘em go. A pint or two at the hospital to top ‘em off and they’re fine.” He stopped, not wanting to sound like a complete sap by explaining it any further.

But Xander’s slowly widening smile said he understood and it warmed Spike more than fresh blood hot from the living source. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m sorry.”

Xander looked up at the sound of Willow’s quiet voice in the empty classroom. He’d arrived at school, ok a bit late - first period was already over, and the hallways had been filled with gossip about Buffy attacking the computer teacher. Most of the gossiping students claimed to have been in the classroom at the time and, although it seemed that the first period computer class had been surprisingly well-attended, Xander gathered from the excited whispers that Buffy had simply walked in and flattened Ms. Calendar with a choke hold. Unbelievable.

Knowing full well he tended to be fairly permanently on Buffy’s shit list, Xander decided on the spur of the moment that he didn’t really want to share a classroom with a Buffy who was already on a rampage. Accordingly, Xander had skipped his second period class and had found an empty classroom to study for the quiz he suspected Mr. Stevens was going to spring on them this afternoon. Willow had apparently followed him, meaning, Xander confirmed with a glance at the wall clock, she was currently committing the very un-Willow-like sin of cutting class.

“You were right, we should have told you what was going on. We just didn’t think it affected anyone except Buffy. I mean, Angel reverting to a typical vampire wasn’t a good thing but it’s not like he’s the only vampire in Sunnydale, so I guess we just didn’t realize that it made much difference except on a personal level for Buffy.”

Xander shut his book and marshaled his thoughts. “Willow, you’ve been telling me for months how much you’ve been learning about what’s really going on in Sunnydale, didn’t that apply to Angel? Didn’t you guys ever check out his story? You know, check out his curse and find out whether it was permanent or not? ’Cause I can only assume that it had some kind of expiration date that sure would have been nice to know about before the milk went sour.”

Willow’s lips tightened but she didn’t snap back at him; still feeling guilty, Xander diagnosed. He took advantage of her silence to continue: “The reason I was so pissed is because all vampires are not created equal, well, they may be created mostly equal but they don’t end up that way.” He shook his head in exasperation at the way his words had gone spiraling out of control and brought himself back to the subject. “What I mean is: Angelus is a 250-year old Master Vampire. He’s not just another fledgling that can’t think beyond his next meal and that Buffy can stake with one hand tied behind her back. He’s seriously dangerous to everyone, not just Buffy.”

“I know that, the night we found out he’d lost his soul, he almost strangled me.”

Xander’s eyes went to her throat and he was relieved that he didn’t see any marks. Whatever had happened couldn’t have been too bad. Fortunately, mention of being almost strangled helped him keep his temper under control. “See, that’s kind of my problem: you say you know but you guys don’t ever seem to think of anyone outside your little circle. Angelus has this charming history just chock-full of fun incidents of torture and mayhem. And his typical pattern says we are all his preferred targets: you and Mr. Giles because of your connection with Buffy and me because of my connection with Spike.” 

Xander wondered if he should tell her about everything that Spike had told him. Spike had talked to him for some time last night about Angel: describing Angel’s long and violent history of obsession with his victims, toying with them, often for a long time, before finally killing them. Apparently, it hadn’t been unusual for Angelus to kill everyone his victims knew first before actually attacking the victims themselves. Spike’s warning had been graphic and deadly serious. Before Spike had walked him home, Xander had felt like crawling under his bed and never coming out again. He could tell Spike was worried about him and that both pleased and terrified him. He really didn’t want to think that he could become the target of one of Angel’s little gifts to his main victim.

As Spike had left him at his door, he’d said: “Sorry, pet, this wasn’t how I thought the next week or two would go. I don’t want you and Angelus crossing paths again if it’s possible to avoid it. I’ll need some time to figure out how to handle Angelus and that means I probably won’t see you for a few days.”

Xander smiled, remembering how upset Spike had looked as he’d said that, then pulled himself back to the present. “What?” He’d missed what Willow said in his abstraction. 

“I said: Giles is looking into Angel’s history and Buffy and I are going to be extra careful.”

“Good, I’m glad to hear it.” Xander was relieved that he wouldn’t have to explain the gory facts of Angelus to Willow, hearing it once had been bad enough, he didn’t want to have to repeat it to anyone else. Let Mr. Giles have that thankless job. A horrible thought occurred to him suddenly. “You haven’t ever invited Angel into your house, have you?”

Willow’s eyes widened and she went still. “Yes, oh god, I did invite him in.”

Xander swore sharply and thought that Willow finally was taking this as seriously as she should when she didn’t automatically scold him for swearing. Then he realized, with a sudden stab of grief for their lost friendship, that he didn’t know if Willow did that anymore or if she had learned to live with swearing. Maybe she even used profanity herself now; he honestly didn’t know and that thought filled him with sorrow. He shook off the feeling sharply, there wasn’t time for this.

“Come on,” he said, shoving his book into his backpack. “Let’s go talk to Mr. Giles.” He led the way to the library, Willow hurrying by his side. As they walked, Willow told him that Angel’s curse had had some sort of “happiness clause”, that Angel had lost his soul because he had experienced a moment of perfect happiness, which the gypsies hadn’t ever wanted to happen. Xander could just bet how Angel got his moment of happiness. Once again, he was disgusted by the complete lack of foresight shown by the sanctimonious little group. Surely there was some mention somewhere of the happiness clause, enough to have prevented this fiasco.

He opened the door to the library, automatically holding it open for Willow and called out: “Mr. Giles?”

“Yes?” The librarian emerged from his office. As always, he had a book clutched in one hand with a finger slipped between the pages to mark his place. With a discerning eye, Xander saw it was one of the Watcher diaries. “Reading up on Angelus?” he asked, gesturing to the book.

“Yes,” the librarian confirmed. “I understand you have been informed of the rather unfortunate turn of events.”

Xander’s eyebrows shot up. “If by ‘unfortunate events’ you mean the exciting return of Angelus, the sociopathic Master vampire, yeah, I was informed. A bit late but fortunately Angel didn’t actually kill me during the delay.”

He heard Willow muttering beside him, “I said I was sorry,” but ignored her. He wasn’t going to forgive her that easily but his lingering resentment was not the point. “Look, Spike gave me a run down last night on how dangerous Angelus is. Do the Watcher Diaries cover the situation or do you need to know what Spike told me?”

“The coverage of Angelus’ first century as a vampire is rather extensive. As it is of Spike’s activities,” the librarian added, completely gratuitously in Xander’s opinion but he let it go.

“However, it would perhaps be best to compare notes to see if Spike has any information that is not contained in the Watchers’ accounts. As Angelus’ Childe, he has a unique perspective not shared by the Watchers.” 

Xander nodded. Sharing the information with Mr. Giles would be relatively easy. He would be able to handle the gory details in a dry, academic fashion that would make repeating it much simpler. “So, you’ve made sure Buffy and Willow understand how dangerous he is to them?” he asked pointedly.

Mr. Giles returned his look with one that was equally sharp. “I can assure you, Mr. Harris, that I have not neglected my duties in that regard.”

“Good.” Xander didn’t mention that he felt the Watcher had seriously fallen down on the job in not preventing this in the first place. “Did Willow tell you that she’s invited Angelus into her home?”

“Oh, dear lord,” Mr. Giles exclaimed.

“Sorry, Giles,” Willow said meekly, “I’d forgotten. It was only once, oh, wait - twice,” she added apologetically.

“Once is quite sufficient, and Buffy is in the same situation.” As always, Mr. Giles turned to his books, heading for his office and returning shortly with several volumes which he set down on the table. “I suspect this is not the first time this problem has arisen. Let’s start by checking these for spells to revoke an invitation.”

Somewhat bemused by Mr. Giles’ easy assumption that they were at his disposal for research, Xander snagged the top volume and opened it without protest. It was important and the faster they found a spell, the safer Willow and Buffy would be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took barely an hour before they found a spell that Mr. Giles thought would work. They left to return to class, Mr. Giles promising to gather the necessary ingredients and perform the spell at both Willow’s and Buffy’s houses before sunset.

Xander picked up his backpack and stretched, relieved that Mr. Giles seemed to be taking Angelus’ return seriously. Spike had thoroughly convinced Xander of the danger but he was relieved he didn’t have to try and convince Mr. Giles based on what Spike had said. It was obvious that the librarian hadn’t changed his opinion of Spike, despite the fact that Spike had honored the truce with Buffy but this didn’t seem like a good time to say anything. With Angel’s little change of heart, it was highly unlikely that Mr. Giles would be receptive to reconsidering his position on Spike.

Willow followed Xander out of the library and walked down the hall with him. He glanced over at her, somewhat surprised that she was staying with him. It had been so long that it felt strange to be walking through the halls together. He’d gotten so used to being alone at school that he didn’t really know what to say to her.

Willow smiled at him. “That was fun, wasn’t it?” she said tentatively. “Researching together like that, I mean. Not the actual we-need-to-stop-impending-doom situation with Angel having a open sesame into our homes, but the research party part. Buffy isn’t so good with research, she gets impatient and misses stuff, and Giles is really serious about it and so there isn’t any joking around when it’s just me and him.”

Xander had an awful feeling that she was going to invite him to their little meetings again and was steeling himself to refuse when it occurred to him that he was going to have a lot of lonely nights for awhile. Plus, it sounded like he wouldn’t get to see much of Spike until Spike had figured out the best way to deal with Angelus so maybe researching the problem with full access to the librarian’s books would be the best way to help Spike out.

Willow’s voice washed over him as he considered. “…you’ve gotten really good at research, you went through the books almost as fast as Mr. Giles, so you could really help. I have a feeling we’re going to be doing a lot of research in the next few weeks and because it’s Angel, I don’t think Buffy will be much help.” She looked up at him expectantly and Xander assumed he’d missed the actual question in her flow of words.

“I agree, Angel is going to cause serious problems for all of us. So, yeah, I’ll help with the research on him.” 

Willow smiled and he gave her a similar hesitant smile back. Researching together might be a way to rebuild their friendship but Xander for one was reserving judgment on that. He suspected that Buffy at least would not be thrilled at his sudden inclusion in their little secret circle of do-gooders. And, as much as he hated to even think it, he wasn’t entirely sure he and Willow could ever be friends again. Maybe researching together would give them a chance to talk without friction, at least enough to find out if they still had anything in common.

If nothing else, seeing how Buffy handled losing her boyfriend to the dark side of the Force might be entertaining. He realized that thought probably made him a bad person, but hey, there was a lot of that going around just now and he could live with it.


	20. Chapter 20

Xander reluctantly headed for the library after his last class, finding himself the first to arrive. Mr. Giles immediately sat him down at the desk in his office and gave him the task of writing down everything he could remember about what Spike had told him about Angel. Xander gathered from the haste to tuck him out of sight that the librarian hadn’t had time to warn Buffy that Xander would be joining them but sat down at the desk without protest. He’d promised to share the information and writing it down was as good a way as any. 

Mr. Giles left him to it, closing the office door behind him and moving briskly out into the main room. Xander watched him go with amusement. Unless Willow had already broken the news to Buffy, he suspected he would hear the Slayer’s reaction even through the closed door.

It was a bit of a let down when Willow arrived alone. Xander, busy writing, didn’t even notice she was present until he glanced up and saw her sitting at the table already working on the computer. Mr. Giles was sitting across from her and reading. He supposed it made sense that Buffy wouldn’t want to join them in researching her boyfriend’s history. 

He felt an unwilling pang of sympathy for Buffy and couldn’t really blame her for skipping out on the research. He certainly hadn’t enjoyed it when Willow insisted he read about Spike’s history. The feeling died almost immediately in a flare of resentment that Buffy was being allowed to live in ignorant bliss of Angel’s past when he had had the facts about Spike rammed down his throat.

When he finished writing, he dropped the pen on the desk and stretched. He was pretty sure he’d remembered everything significant that Spike had told him. In writing it down, a weird little compare-and-contrast thing had been going through his mind as he found himself weighing Angelus’ history against Spike’s. From the Slayer’s perspective, Spike was probably worse because he’d killed two Slayers and Angelus hadn’t killed any. Other than that, Angelus definitely won the sadism and obsession gold medals. It was weirdly comforting in a “my vampire’s better than your vampire” way. Mostly, he was relieved because he was pretty sure it meant that Spike could take Angel in a fight if it came down to that between the two. After all, Angel had never killed a Slayer and he was a lot older, so Spike had to be the better fighter. And how twisted was it that he was sort of proud of Spike for that? Plus, now that Buffy and Willow could no longer use the “he’s got a soul” trump card, the next time they gave him any flack about Spike, he was going to be able to point to Angel’s misdeeds because Angel and Spike were in the same boat now.

Which brought him right back to the question of whether he should tell them that Angel was staying at the factory. Xander had been feeling guilty about it all day. He didn’t think Buffy knew about the factory, which really made him wonder why not. Shouldn’t she know about all the big vampire hang-outs? If she really didn’t know, then Angel obviously hadn’t told her, so did that leave Xander off the hook?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I thought you liked Ms. Calendar?” Xander asked Willow as they walked out of computer class together. For two days, he had seen Buffy, Willow and Mr. Giles ignoring Ms. Calendar as if she didn’t exist and he was curious about what the problem was.

“I do, I mean, I did… I don’t know what to think. She lied to us.”

“About what?”

“I told you - she’s a gypsy, her people cursed Angel.”

“How is that her fault? ‘Cause unless there’s something you’re not telling me, she wasn’t around 100 years ago - was she?” he asked, just to be safe. This was the Hellmouth after all, anything was possible.

“No, but she didn’t tell us that she was sent here to watch Angel.”

“So?”

“Xander, don’t be dense.”

“Sorry, but I’m not getting why this is a cut-her-dead-in-the-hallways kind of problem.”

“Because she’s been lying to us since we met her!”

“I dunno, Willow, seems to me a lie of omission like that is different.” Maybe he was pushing this because his own lies of omission were weighing heavily on him but it was also because he could relate to the sadness in Ms. Calendar’s eyes every time she watched Mr. Giles walk past her door without even glancing inside. “It’s not like she ever told you she wasn’t a gypsy, she just didn’t volunteer the information. She’s still a good teacher and a nice lady. I don’t remember you and Buffy holding a grudge against Angel for doing the exact same thing.”

“That’s different,” Willow answered automatically, but she looked troubled.

Xander rolled his eyes at the Slayerettes’ standard response, man did they need a new come-back, he was so tired of that one. “Explain the difference to me because I don’t see one. Angel didn’t tell you he was a vampire, Ms. Calendar didn’t say she was a gypsy. Frankly, I’d rather have a secret gypsy running around than a secret vampire.”

“What about your friend Spike?” Willow shot back, “how long was it before he told you he was a vampire?”

Xander laughed. “Spike is not subtle-guy. I learned he was a vampire as soon as I could see straight after being shoved into a wall two seconds after meeting him. He wasn’t exactly hiding the fangs and the bumps at the time.”

“He attacked you? And you still call him your friend?”

Xander grinned. “Well, he didn’t kill me and it gave us something to talk about when we met again. Getting back to the point, I think you’re being a little hypocritical in forgiving Angel for lying to you but not Ms. Calendar. She told you she didn’t know what would happen with the curse. Do you believe her?”

Willow’s eyes fell. “I don’t know.”

“If you believe her, then you should forgive her and get over it. If you don’t, then fine,” Xander shrugged, “you probably should stay away from her. Just make sure you’re doing it for the right reason and not because you’re taking your anger at the people who totally screwed up cursing Angel out on her.”

Had Willow always been this rigid about people? Xander didn’t think so and he wondered if she was taking her cue from Buffy or if she’d become harder in the past year. He knew that he was arguing for the computer teacher because of his own guilt over the secrets he was keeping. Like Ms. Calendar, he didn’t think anything he was hiding would hurt anyone. He just hoped he was right.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After barely two nights living under the same roof, Spike found himself almost sympathizing with Angelus. If Darla had been one tenth as annoying to Angelus as Angelus was to Spike, no wonder Angelus had staked her. 

It had been fun the first night after Xander’s visit to the factory. As the minions had come trickling back into the factory shortly after sunset, Spike had taken great pleasure in loudly ordering one of them to fetch his Sire some blood to help him heal. He’d specified bagged, knowing full well how much it would annoy Angelus to have to drink bagged blood after a century of not feeding from live victims. Spike made sure that he just happened to mention how much he regretted “accidentally” hurting Angelus so badly during their routine sparring match.

Angelus had only been laid up for two days. Well-fed vampires healed quickly and Spike hadn’t wanted to do more than make his point clear to his Sire. As he pointed out coldly to Angelus, standing over his bed and sneering down at his Sire, if he’d wanted to kill Angelus, Angelus wouldn’t be lying in Spike’s home being fed by Spike’s minions. He’d be a small scattering of dust in the back alley.

You’d think Angelus would have the decency to be grateful that Spike hadn’t killed him. Angelus was smart enough to realize that he was significantly off his game after a century of not feeding properly. Spike could easily have killed him and Angelus bloody well knew it. But not Captain Hair-Gel, no, gratitude was apparently too much to ask. 

Spike snarled to himself as he paced restlessly in his room. He should be sleeping the day away but he had too much on his mind for that. As soon as Angelus had recovered sufficiently to not look weak, he’d begun courting the minions. Sitting in Spike’s chair, telling outrageous lies about his glory years, subtly undermining Spike’s authority with sly innuendos and not-quite-stifled comments on how a “proper” Court was run. Nothing Spike could really stop without looking petty and insecure, deadly flaws that would lead to challenges he didn’t want to deal with now. 

Angelus’ tales somehow always featured Spike as a weak fledgling stumbling his way through unlife being rescued by his wise and patient Sire - two attributes Angelus had rarely ever displayed in reality. Drusilla’s infidelity to Spike was also mentioned frequently, with the accompanying implication that Spike was too weak to prevent her from straying. The stories Angelus told were deliberately humorous so that Spike couldn’t protest without looking like a stuck-up prig with no sense of humor. 

The problem was that Spike didn’t really want to dust his Sire, even in his current unbelievably annoying phase. Chances were Angelus was just over-reacting to freedom after a century of having every natural impulse stifled by the soul the gypsies had stuck him with, imprisoning the vampire Spike had known in a straightjacket of human values. Once Angelus got through these first days of freedom, surely the Angelus Spike had known would re-emerge. 

His Sire had always been capable of being a right annoying git, but he had also been fun. Sire, mentor, companion; some of Spike’s fondest memories were of drinking, wenching, gaming and just plain hell-raising with Angelus. With Drusilla gone forever, Spike admitted that he missed the companionship of a Master vampire, of family. Minions were not even a pale substitute.

Snatching up a bottle of whiskey, Spike drank deeply, oblivious to the liquor spilling down his front. Angelus had better work through this phase damn quickly before Spike lost the last remnants of his own control. It wasn’t unusual for Angelus to annoy the piss out of Spike, but his behavior in the last two days had been completely over the top. Just because he didn’t want to stake his Sire, didn’t mean he wouldn’t if Angelus continued to challenge him.

Spike sat down on the bed and studied the bottle thoughtfully. For a moment, the temptation to simply burn the factory down around Angelus and the minions was nearly overwhelming. Seal the doors and torch the place, that was the way to go.

Reluctantly he discarded the idea. Having told Xander he wasn’t killing, he wasn’t going to go back on his word to create a new batch of minions. In any case, he would be better off simply staking the minions rather than burning his own home down around his ears. Plus, he was still foolishly hoping his Sire would go back to his old self.

Brooding over the situation, Spike drained the bottle and tossed the empty carelessly into the corner. He flung himself full length on the bed, determined not to let Angelus deprive him of any more sleep. He’d figure out a way to handle his bastard of a Sire after he’d gotten a decent day’s sleep. Maybe he’d just lock Angelus and the Slayer into a small room and let them kill each other. A smile crossed his face at the thought, that probably wouldn’t break the truce, not if he didn’t kill her himself. He hadn’t ever promised not to kidnap her, had he?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For three days in a row, they’d met in the library every afternoon after classes were over. Buffy tended to leave almost immediately, saying she had to patrol. Xander wasn’t sure if it was his presence or the fact that they were researching Angel that was causing her to leave so quickly. Probably both, he thought with an inward grin. 

They had reviewed just about everything the librarian had on Angel and, in Xander’s opinion, weren’t a whole lot wiser than they had been, although Mr. Giles kept saying that anything they found was potentially important. Since Buffy didn’t seem interested in hearing about anything they were digging up, Xander didn’t see how it was going to help her fight Angel but he wasn’t exactly one to talk. His big idea of being able to help Spike was a complete bust. Everything they were reading about was from the time when Spike and Angel were hanging out together so Spike obviously already knew anything Xander was learning. 

Well, it helped pass the time at least. He missed Spike. He hadn’t gone four days without seeing the vampire in a long time and his evenings seemed lonely and a lot more boring without the vampire around. 

Not to mention that, having gone through all the agonizing over his tentative foray into bi-sexuality, he was being left high and dry with no follow through. After the long dry spell, his body was raring to go and his fantasies were frustratingly limited. He didn’t know a lot about gay sex and had no way to research it. Well, ok, there were ways but he wouldn’t be caught dead in a book store buying a sex manual of any kind, he didn’t have a computer and wouldn’t know how to do the computer research thing even if he had one, and he would willingly die of sexual frustration before asking Willow to help him out with research into gay sex. That was simply never going to happen. 

Thinking of Spike, which he did disturbingly often, always brought him back to the moment when Spike had told him he wasn’t killing. Spike hadn’t admitted it, but Xander knew the vampire had done it for him. Whenever he remembered that moment, Xander always found himself grinning like an idiot. He couldn’t help it, the thought that Spike had done that for him, especially without saying anything about it, sent a warm glow through him. Despite Spike’s attempts to make light of it, it was HUGE. Part of him wanted to tell Willow, and even Buffy and Mr. Giles. Only the thought that they would doubt it, would refuse to accept it, kept him from bragging about it. He knew Spike was telling the truth. Maybe he shouldn’t be so happy that Spike was still wounding people, but Spike was a tiger who had voluntarily gone vegetarian for him. It was enough. It was more than enough to prove Spike cared. 

So he hadn’t told them that Spike wasn’t killing. Despite the temptation at their occasional pointed remarks about Spike, Xander hugged the knowledge to himself, an impenetrable shield against their disapproval and one he would not allow to be cheapened by their disbelief. Because he was sure they wouldn’t believe him, would demand proof, would do their best to tarnish the shining memory of Spike telling him he wasn’t killing. 

Granted, Buffy didn’t make snide remarks about Spike any more. The first time she had, Xander had simply looked at her with false sympathy and sweetly asked how she was holding up now that her boyfriend had gone so spectacularly evil after spending a single night with her. That had shut Miss Holier-Than-Thou up but good. Well, not actually shut her up, there had been some shouting and some name calling before she stormed out of the library but there had been conspicuous silence from her on the subject of Spike ever since then. It had totally been worth the lecture and the disapproval from both Willow and Mr. Giles. He’d listened in silence and gravely agreed that kicking someone when they were down was “extremely poor form” - Mr. Giles’ opinion - and “just plain mean” - Willow’s input - and concentrated on keeping his face bland and his smirk tucked well out of sight. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Xander reluctantly showed up at the library for research for the fourth day in a row, he was going stir crazy. It felt like his life had been put on hold because of Angel. While he took Spike’s warnings seriously, he missed spending time with Spike, laughing with him, doing fun things with him, doing anything but research. He missed Spike’s weird perspective on things and the way he made familiar activities seem new and different. 

Lately, the only thing different was the stack of books piled up on the table each afternoon for them to comb through looking for references to - 

“Werewolves?” he asked incredulously, as Mr. Giles explained their afternoon’s research project. “Are you kidding?”

“No. There were a number of reported attacks by ‘wild dogs’ last night and Cordelia Chase was attacked in her car while she was…er, hem.” The librarian cleared his throat and looked mildly embarrassed. 

“Making out with some jock?” Xander guessed.

“Yes, quite. Apparently the creature punched through her convertible top in its attempts to reach her and her paramour but fortunately they were able to start the car and escape unharmed.” Mr. Giles gestured to the dozen or so books stacked on the table. “I have already consulted my primary sources earlier this morning but if you would be so kind as to check these for any additional information, it would be very helpful.” He smiled broadly. “It’s fascinating,” he added enthusiastically. “Lycanthropy is such a classic condition. I never imagined I would have a chance to delve seriously into the subject.”

Xander eyed him dubiously. “You need a life in the worst way,” he observed without malice, reaching for the top book in resignation. “Do werewolves fall in Buffy’s turf?” he asked, opening the book and beginning to leaf through it.

“Not for slaying purposes, certainly. Werewolves are not demons. They are human beings who have been infected with what is essentially a virus that recurs every month. Interestingly, the common understanding that werewolves only change into their wolf form on the night of the full moon is apparently erroneous. It appears they change for three consecutive nights, but otherwise they are essentially fully human. Killing the wolf is not the answer, it must simply be contained during those three days. Buffy will, of course, be largely responsible for tracking and containing the creature.”

“Well, it makes a change from reading about Angel.” 

“Yes, it does. I suspect you will be relieved to learn that we have almost exhausted my materials that potentially contain references to Angel.”

“Relieved doesn’t begin to cover it.” Xander answered thankfully, settling down to read. 

When Buffy and Willow entered a short time later, they were talking about Oz, Willow’s almost, sort of, working-on-it, boyfriend-to-be. From overheard snatches over the last few days, Xander had already heard way more than he cared to of girl-talk about how things were progressing, or not progressing, on the Willow dating front. Apparently, Oz moved unusually slowly for a senior and a band member.

“Hi, Giles, Xander,” Willow greeted them cheerfully. Xander glanced up briefly and smiled before looking back at the page which had some cool, anatomically improbable sketches of werewolves. He suspected strongly that the author had never actually seen a werewolf given that the sketched creatures didn’t look like they were capable of walking, much less running and attacking things. Maybe the guy was just a bad artist.

“So, what have you found out?” Buffy asked.

Xander listened with half an ear as Mr. Giles repeated everything he’d already told Xander, only this time he used a little globe to demonstrate the moon’s phases. Why he thought that would perk up his lecture, Xander had no clue. Leave it to the librarian to find a way to make werewolves sound boring. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, the school was buzzing with the horrifying news of the death of one of their classmates. Teresa had been brutally killed and the authorities were blaming it on wild dogs. Xander hadn’t really known her but, even in Sunnydale, it was a shock when a classmate was killed. He also felt bad for whoever the werewolf was. It would be awful to learn you’d killed someone while your body wasn’t under your control.

Which, Xander thought glumly, was the logic that Buffy was using to justify not killing Angel. She kept wanting to have “her” Angel back, like he was possessed or something. Except Angel’s problem wasn’t just for three nights out of the month like a werewolf - losing his soul was a permanent “wolf” state. The whole Angel/Angelus thing weirded Xander out - wondering where the soul had been in the interim and what the original human would have thought of the whole mess. Despite being the original owner, the soul had been dead for almost 150 years when it was shoved back into its former body. The whole thing just seemed creepy and wrong whenever he thought about it. Probably why it was a curse, he thought wryly.

It was only at the end of the day that he learned from Willow that Angel had killed Teresa. Killed her and made her a vampire. She’d risen at the funeral home and had almost killed Buffy before Buffy was able to stake her. Xander heard the news in silence and then just turned and walked away from Willow without saying anything. He was struggling for control, trying not to give in to the shakes and nausea that filled him at the news of another classmate being staked. Jesse’s face filled his vision and for a moment all he could hear was Jesse’s voice saying “Buddy!” Stumbling towards the bathroom, trying not to lose it, he didn’t see Willow’s puzzled face as she watched him go. 

Once inside the bathroom, he splashed cold water on his face and drank from the tap, trying to rinse away the phantom taste of ashes. Clinging to the sides of the sink, he took several deep breaths and forced the memory of Jesse’s death back into the corners of his mind where it lived. 

Looking into the mirror at the reflection of his haunted eyes, Xander wondered if he would ever get used to the casual murder of people who had been human the previous day. How could Buffy do it? Night after night, killing people she knew. She couldn’t seem to bring herself to kill Angel but she could kill Teresa without batting an eye. The excuse she’d always had for Angel - that he had a soul - didn’t apply any more and he still got a pass from her. And while Xander freely admitted he had Angel issues, namely disliking the vampire intensely, still it just seemed wrong that Buffy would kill Teresa but not Angel. Maybe that made him a hypocrite because he had used her selective killing policy to his advantage when he’d persuaded Buffy not to kill Spike, but Spike had more than repaid him by voluntarily giving up killing humans so Xander could live with being a hypocrite.

Would Teresa be alive if Xander hadn’t been withholding information? Would it have made a difference if he’d told them that Angel was at the factory? He desperately hoped he wasn’t lying to himself when he told himself no, it wouldn’t have made a difference. Buffy wasn’t showing any signs of wanting to actually take on Angel and even if she did, the factory was not the place to do it. There were about 20 or so vampires living in there and that was too many even for a Slayer.

No, he wasn’t going to tell them about the factory. He didn’t trust Buffy not to decide the truce was over and to just attack Spike. He still didn’t want either one of them to kill the other, which left keeping them away from each other as still the best option. The once-comforting thought that Angel had never told them about the factory either was tissue thin from overuse and gave no relief anymore.

Looking away from the guilt in his eyes, Xander left the bathroom. The research party could go on without him tonight. His jaw tightened as he saw Willow hovering outside the bathroom, waiting for him. 

“Xander, are you all right?”

“I’ll live,” he replied shortly. “I’m going home,” he told her, turning towards his locker.

“But we were going to the library,” she began, following him as he opened the locker and grabbed his backpack.

“Changed my mind,” he said briefly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Slamming the locker closed firmly, he walked off without waiting for her response. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander spent a long sleepless night thinking about Teresa and Angel and the factory. His loyalties were hopelessly torn. Cut off from Spike because of Angel, which did nothing to improve his level of fondness for the older vampire, he couldn’t ask Spike’s advice or warn him about what Xander was planning. He had considered and discarded several crazy ideas about getting a note to Spike or just going to the factory and trying to see Spike, but Spike’s warnings about Angelus had Xander too wary to risk any of the ideas he had come up with. It was obvious that Spike was worried about Angel using Xander against Spike in some way and Xander didn’t want to do something that would put Spike at a disadvantage against his Sire.

The gnawing worry that withholding the information about Angel’s whereabouts might have contributed to Teresa’s death wouldn’t leave him. From what Spike had told him and the librarian’s books had confirmed, Angel’s pattern was to attack his victims indirectly, through others. Xander would warn Spike as soon as he could but he wasn’t going to continue to sit on the knowledge of where Angel was living.

Decision made, Xander had finally been able to sleep. In the morning, he went to school early and immediately headed for the library to talk to Mr. Giles. As usual, the librarian was already in his office, Xander would swear the man lived at the library he so rarely seemed to leave it.

“Mr. Giles?”

“Yes? Oh, Mr. Harris. I understand you had to leave early yesterday, are you feeling better?”

For a minute, Xander didn’t have any idea what the man was talking about, then realized that Willow must have told them he was sick. Which wasn’t far off. “I’m fine,” he said briefly. “Can I talk to you?”

“Of course.” The librarian waved him to the table and moved to the door of his office. “I was just making a cup of tea, would you like one?” he asked.

“No, thanks.” 

The librarian disappeared into his office for a moment and Xander waited, bouncing one knee restlessly.

“I assume you would like to discuss Oz?” Mr. Giles said, returning with a teacup in one hand and one of the books with a section on werewolves that Xander remembered reading two days ago. 

“Oz? Why would I want to talk about him?” he asked blankly.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I just assumed you had heard.” Mr. Giles sat down at the table and took a sip of his tea. “We discovered last night that Oz is the werewolf we have been looking for. The poor chap didn’t know himself as this is the first full moon cycle since he became infected. We were able to tranquilize him and contain him until dawn and, now that the situation has been explained to him, he will ensure he is appropriately restrained during the full moon in the future.”

Xander stared at him. “That’s it?” he asked incredulously.

“What do you mean? I assure you, he’s quite harmless except during those three nights, which are now behind us for this month. There is no need to take punitive action against him for something he had no control over.”

Xander said sharply: “That’s not what I meant. How’s he doing?”

Mr. Giles raised his eyebrows at the question. “I explained the physiology to him thoroughly. He seems like quite a sensible boy and appears to be handling the situation very maturely.”

Xander just shook his head. There were times when Mr. Giles seemed incapable of emotional connection with anyone. Seriously flawed in the empathy department, he thought but dropped the subject. “I need to talk to you about Angel.”

“Yes?”

“Do you know the old factory on Oakes Street, the brick one with mostly boarded up windows?”

“I believe so. Why?”

“Angel’s staying there now.”

“Really? How do you know?”

“I saw him there five or six days ago.”

Mr. Giles just stared at him in silence, brows raised, until Xander squirmed uncomfortably and reluctantly explained, knowing he had no choice.

“Spike’s been staying there since he came to town. When I went to tell Spike about Angel, Angel was there. Spike told me he was living there now.”

“I see.” The librarian took off his glasses and polished them thoughtfully for a long moment. Settling them back on his face, he shot a piercing look at Xander. “Why have you chosen to tell me this now and not before?”

“Because of Teresa. I don’t know if it makes any difference but I can’t risk someone else dying because I know where Angel is and you don’t.” Xander longed to look away but forced himself to keep his eyes on Mr. Giles. “I don’t want Spike caught in the middle. He didn’t have a lot of choice about letting Angel move in.”

Surprisingly, Mr. Giles nodded in agreement. “No, he probably didn’t. Given that Angel is Spike’s Sire, ordinarily vampire offspring do as their Sires tell them.” He paused to take a thoughtful sip of his tea, then continued. “I can only imagine that their relationship is quite complicated now, given Angel’s effective absence from Spike’s life while he had the soul.” He shook his head, “But that is hardly the issue. I appreciate you telling me this. I will pass the information on to Buffy but not for the purpose of an all-out assault, I assure you. There are undoubtedly a number of other vampires inside the building and a frontal attack would be too dangerous.”

He fell silent and Xander said firmly: “Spike is keeping the truce. He isn’t going to join Angel in an attack on Buffy.”

“Xander,” he gave Xander a tiny smile when Xander looked surprised at the use of his first name, “I think you are aware of the fact that Buffy is not yet emotionally prepared to fight Angel. She still thinks of him as her boyfriend and hasn’t yet adjusted to the fact that he is now simply a vampire. Until she is emotionally ready to fight, and yes, to kill him, I will not encourage her to fight Angel because she is almost certain to lose. Buffy’s emotional reaction to Teresa’s message from Angel nearly caused her to lose a fight to a barely risen fledgling. While she is in this state, I will do whatever I can to help her avoid a confrontation.” He sighed heavily, removing his glasses and rubbing at the bridge of his nose, suddenly looking very tired. “As much as I regret Teresa’s death, it would not have changed anything if you had shared the information about Angel’s location before she was killed. I would not have permitted Buffy to act on the knowledge.” 

He put his glasses back on and stood up, transforming abruptly back into the buttoned down and unemotional Watcher. “My duty as a Watcher is first and foremost to my Slayer. I will not allow her to fight a vampire that is virtually certain to kill her. Yes, Mr. Harris, even if that inevitably means that some innocents will die.”

Xander had risen to his feet with the librarian and their eyes met and held for a long moment. For the first time since he’d met the Englishman, Xander felt like he understood him. Standing there in his armor of tweed, surrounded by the books that were his weapons of choice, Xander suddenly saw Mr. Giles as a beleaguered man saddled with a hopeless task: that of keeping one young girl alive against a thousand lethal threats. No wonder the librarian was single minded and obsessed. Buffy was the only thing he really cared about, everything and everyone else was merely a tool to help keep his Slayer alive. A recently turned vampire automatically became just another threat to his Slayer. Xander didn’t agree with his methods but he’d become depressingly familiar with grey areas and bitter compromises in the past year and he could see the same experience in the librarian’s tired eyes.

Not sure what to say in the face of such brutal honesty, Xander just nodded. “See you later…, Giles.” He walked away, not looking back, shaken by the unexpected glimpse into the Watcher’s soul.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey.” 

After looking for some time, Xander had found Oz sitting on one of the picnic tables outside the school. Crossing the grounds towards the small figure that sat staring off into the distance, Xander wondered if his presence would be welcome. Seeing no sign that Oz was even aware of his approach, he simply climbed up and sat down on top of the table next to Oz, leaving a careful space between them so he didn’t crowd Oz and quietly greeted him. 

Oz glanced at him briefly, eyes unreadable. “Hey,” he replied noncommittally before returning his gaze to the horizon. 

Xander looked off into the distance himself for a moment before saying quietly. “I heard what happened. Is there anything I can do?” He really didn’t know what to say, especially since he didn’t know Oz very well, but he felt like he needed to make some kind of gesture to prove that he didn’t think Oz was a freak or a monster now.

“I’m covered. Giles explained it to me.”

Xander smiled. “Did he pull out the little moon and globe models?”

“Yeah. Didn’t really make things clearer but I think he meant well.”

After a pause, during which Xander tried to come up with anything that wouldn’t sound dumb or trite or patronizing or any of a number of other things, all equally bad, Oz spoke again. “It’s a lot. I mean, I just learned about the whole Sunnydale thing and now this…”

From somewhere, Xander found the words he’d been struggling for. “I learned about Sunnydale last year when my best friend got turned into a vampire. It takes a long time to deal.” It was the only thing he could offer Oz that might help; that Sunnydale sucked but eventually you learned to deal with it. It was the first time he’d talked about Jesse this way; as an experience, a past event that he’d survived. It made him feel simultaneously that he really was finally recovering and moving on and also guilty for the same reasons. 

Oz looked over at him and this time Xander saw sympathy and pain and confusion in the steady gaze. “Thanks,” he said briefly.

They sat together on the picnic table in the warm sunshine for a long time both lost in their own thoughts, the silence between them no longer awkward or uncomfortable.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike leapt up and slammed a kick into the armored chest plate of the seshantii demon. The pent-up anger and frustration at his Sire, the situation, the whole bloody Hellmouth poured out of him in the fight, powering his blows. The seshantii was losing badly which made Spike crow with satisfaction even as he spun and dropped, ducking a sweep from one of the demon’s bladed forearms. The blow went over his head and he bounced back up quickly, dancing out of range of the thing’s deadly spikes.

The battle was energizing him. Spike loved the focus and intensity of a good fight. An opponent like the seshantii just made it better: a foot taller and about 200 pounds heavier than him, seshantii were naturally armored with bony plates over most of their vulnerable areas and armed with bladed spikes along all six limbs. The blades, which usually lay flat against the demon’s limbs, were raised for battle, exposing razor-sharp edges and points. They had a fiercer reputation than they deserved, Spike judged as he spun and delivered a hard kick to the seshantii’s back. Or at least this one didn’t deserve the species’ reputation. She was a bit slow and clumsy, allowing Spike to dart in and out, landing swift, punishing blows and retreating before she could bring her own natural weapons to bear. She’d only gotten him once: an unanticipated swing with one of her middle set of limbs that had sunk into his side, causing him to yell with fury as the three slender blades pierced his duster. He’d torn free and kept a wary eye on all six limbs after that, quickly learning the weaknesses in her fighting style.

One of which was no stamina. She was slowing down already, throwing roundhouse blows that didn’t come close to landing and taking far too long to recover. Spike seized the advantage, taunting her, darting around her with undiminished energy and slamming both feet into the plating on her back, sending her crashing to the ground. 

Grinning wildly, he bounced on his toes for a moment, giving the demon time to climb back to its feet. When she stayed down, he was disappointed. “Come on, old girl, on your feet. Lots of fight left in you,” he coaxed.

Hissing what sounded like truly vile curses at him, the seshantii began finally to struggle slowly to her feet. 

“That’s the girl, come on!” 

She lumbered towards him, swinging three of her arms in an uncoordinated flurry. Spike easily dodged the blows and pulled a knife out of his boot. He plunged it into a gap in her plating exposed by the outstretched middle limb and roared in triumph as hot, grayish blood gushed out of the wound, pouring over his hand. Snatching the knife free, he gave her a push with his foot and watched in satisfaction as she crumpled full length on the ground. 

He started to put the knife back, then made a face and dropped it. Damn thing stank from the truly foul smelling blood covering it.

Panting for unneeded air, Spike dropped to his knees and then sat back on his heels to give himself a moment to recover. The adrenaline high from the fight had him buzzed and almost wanting to find something else to kill. The anger and frustration that had sent him out looking for battle was gone. In its absence, Spike felt like he could finally think again. 

He wiped the blood off his hand and took a moment to inspect the three puncture wounds in his side. They’d heal in no time, which was more than the matching punctures in his coat would do, he thought irately as he fingered the tears in the leather. 

He jumped to his feet and kicked the demon’s rapidly cooling carcass. “Teach you to damage my coat,” he sneered. Leaving the seshantii, he strode off through the cemetery deciding that things were really very simple after all.

He’d been letting Angelus jerk him around because his Sire had him on the defensive. Spike was reacting to Angelus when it should be the other way around. Somehow, between his snide remarks and his many supposedly helpful suggestions about how Spike should run things, Angelus had maneuvered him into behaving like a fledgling instead of the Master he was. By keeping Spike off-balance and on edge, Angelus had reduced Spike to acting like the Childe he’d been a century ago: prickly and defensive and secretly wanting his Sire’s approval. 

Well, no more. He’d seen through Angelus’ little games and he wasn’t going to play anymore. He wasn’t spending any more time figuring out what Angelus was up to. From now on, Angelus could worry about what Spike was up to. Angelus would give him a Master Vampire’s due or he would be out of the factory to greet the dawn come morning. From now on, Spike would do what he pleased, when he pleased, and with whoever he pleased. If Angelus gave him any more flack about anything, Spike would ram a hot poker up his Sire’s arse and Angelus could think about that for awhile. If Spike wanted to spend time with an unclaimed, virginal, human teenager, that was nobody’s business but Spike’s.

Relaxed and no longer on edge for the first time in days, Spike regretted it was too late to wake his boy up. It was high time he talked to Xander about two of those attributes that had been concerning Angelus so much. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walking home through the growing dark of early evening, Xander was so glad it was Friday and he had two days to recover from the events of the week. Between Oz and Teresa, this had been one of the worst weeks this year and spending his free time researching Angel hadn’t improved things. All he had to look forward to this weekend was microwave popcorn and tv but it would have to do.

Gradually he became aware of a loud approaching engine and his head shot up in surprise as Spike’s car pulled up next to him. The door was pushed open and he stared inside, seeing Spike looking up at him with a grin. 

The familiar voice called: “Oi! Time’s wastin’. You getting’ in or not?” 

Xander scrambled into the car happily. “Where’re we headed?” he asked, not really caring just happy to see Spike again and incredibly grateful for the possibility that this horrible week might end on a positive note. He tossed his backpack into the mess that was the back seat and grabbed for the dashboard to brace himself as Spike took off with his usual disregard for the law of gravity and the lack of seatbelts.

“Fancy that little bar with the pool tables?” Spike grinned over at him wickedly. “I’ve some right good memories of those tables.”

Xander blushed but didn’t back down. “You’re on.” 

Thirty minutes later, half a beer inside him and a tricky bank shot to make, Xander was relaxed and happy in a way he hadn’t been in days. Even the prospect, the near certainty, of Spike hitting on him again wasn’t anxiety making, he was looking forward to it. He took the shot and… “yes!” he exclaimed triumphantly as the cue ball did as it was supposed to and sweetly kissed the 3-ball into the corner pocket. “You are so going down this time,” he informed the vampire confidently, conveniently ignoring the outcome of every game they’d played to date.

“That so?” Spike purred.

Xander felt color burning in his cheeks and reached behind him for his beer, hoping the cold liquid would quench it. How was it that Spike could make anything he said sound unbelievably sexy? Well, Xander thought recklessly, he might be a complete novice at gay sex, ok at almost any kind of sex, but there was no reason he had to act like it. 

Taking another gulp of beer, Xander set the bottle down carefully and did his best to saunter sexily over to where Spike stood, holding his cue in front of him with both hands, head cocked to one side regarding him curiously as he approached. Hoping he didn’t look like a complete idiot, Xander set his own stick down against the table and took the cue out of Spike’s hands, moving it to one side. “Yeah,” he said in his best version of a low, husky voice, “that’s right.”

He leaned forward and kissed Spike, tasting once more the lips that had been starring in his fantasies for days. The kiss was little more than a peck but Xander didn’t stop or pull back. He kissed Spike again, more firmly, feeling Spike’s lips part against his own. Strong arms encircled his waist, holding him but not controlling his movements. Xander’s mouth slid against Spike’s, relishing the feeling of the firm cool lips against his own. He traced along Spike’s lips with his tongue then slipped inside the opening that tasted of cigarettes and beer; tasting, teasing, exploring the contours. Spike’s jaw line was smooth under his hesitant fingers and he slid his hand further back, until his fingers were buried in Spike’s short, gelled hair. 

The bar, the other patrons, everything fell away as Xander became lost in the kiss, lips sliding against each other, tongues dueling playfully. Spike is right, he thought dazedly, gender is meaningless. There was nothing but tongues and lips and feeling as the kiss went on and on. 

After an endless time, Xander pulled back slightly, breaking the kiss slowly as he moved back just far enough to see Spike’s face. A smile curved Spike’s lips, softer than his usual smirk and Xander smiled back, sure he looked like a complete sap but not really caring because Spike didn’t seem to mind.

~~~~~~~~~

Spike broke the silence first. “Pet, if that’s your way of convincing me to cede you the victory, you win. What say we go somewhere a bit more private, eh?”

Suddenly remembering they were in a crowded bar, Xander fidgeted nervously, moving out of Spike’s loose embrace and fumbling with the pool cues and his beer. Spike just laughed and settled his hand on Xander’s back. “Don’t fret, luv, if we keep this up, they’ll have to start giving us free drinks for entertaining their customers,” he murmured into Xander’s ear. His hand began rubbing gently, slipping stealthily under the untucked shirts his boy habitually wore and tracing patterns over the warm skin underneath, enjoying the way Xander leaned into his touch. He wanted to tear the clothes off and finally see his boy in his naked splendor but he restrained himself with an effort. Pushing too hard, too fast, would ruin the victory. His boy was ripe and ready, but also young and unsure of himself. Spike was playing for the long term, not the short, sweet taking he could have so easily. Xander didn’t realize it himself yet but there was love in his eyes when he looked at Spike. 

Spike had known a pair of dark eyes that had looked at him with love and he wanted that again. Wanted it with a fierce longing, a longing born of loneliness and heartbreak. Xander wasn’t a replacement for Dru. If Spike succeeded in winning Xander’s love, the boy would give him what he had craved but never gotten from Drusilla: loyalty and steadfastness, things Dru hadn’t been capable of giving anyone. Dru had loved him. Spike knew that. As much as she was able to love anyone, Dru had loved him. But her ability to love had been damaged beyond repair when Angelus so thoroughly destroyed her innocence and her sanity. Too often the love in Drusilla’s eyes would fade into vagueness as she became lost in her rambling thoughts. Too flighty and distractible to be loyal to anyone, Dru would sometimes forget Spike’s very existence for days and even weeks at a time. He’d given her everything he had, loved her, forgiven her everything, but nothing he did could heal the broken pieces of her mind and emotions. 

Spike knew that, if Xander willingly gave Spike his love, he would be loyal to the end. With Xander, he wouldn’t always be second best; behind “Daddy”, behind soddin’ Miss Edith, behind the bleedin’ stars even, and he wanted that. Wanted it enough to wait for a recently straight, virginal teenager to be ready. Ready to love and ready to be claimed.

So he kept a tight rein on his lust and firmly kept his hand from straying to more interesting areas, steering his boy gently out of the bar with the hand on his back. At least his boy was finally at the serious snogging stage. It wouldn’t be long now.


	21. Chapter 21

Leaving the bar with Xander, Spike gave no outward indication that he was thinking hard, rapidly weighing and discarding options. He’d suggested that he and Xander go somewhere more private but didn’t actually have a plan for where to go.

He wanted more than just a quick snog in the car. Truth be told, he wanted a comfortable bed, a full night and a selection of toys but Xander wasn’t ready for that. Reluctantly letting go of that pleasant image, Spike ran through the possibilities. The factory was out; between the minions hanging about and Angelus, who wouldn’t be able to resist making comments sure to either embarrass or enrage Xander, there was no chance of the mood surviving. Xander’s house was also not a possibility; his parents were nearly as bad as Angelus at shutting up and minding their own bloody business. He wondered if Xander would be open to the idea of getting a hotel room or if they should just find a deserted park.

“Spike, there’s something you need to know.”

Spike answered absently, still considering the relative merits of a couple of nearby parks and missing the worry in Xander’s voice. “What’s that, pet?”

“Buffy and her Watcher know about the factory.” Xander blurted it out in a rush like he needed to get it out quickly or not at all. “I’m sorry, I had to tell them about Angel. He…he killed one of my classmates and I couldn’t stand the thought that it might have been because Buffy didn’t know where he was.”

As they reached the DeSoto, Spike removed his hand from where it had been resting on Xander’s back and leaned against the side of the car, crossing his arms and frowning darkly at Xander. “Told the Watcher and the Slayer where I live, eh? Trying to get me killed?”

Xander shook his head, looking anxious. “No! Mr. Giles said Buffy won’t attack the factory, said she wasn’t ready to face Angelus alone, let alone somewhere where there are a bunch of other vampires.” He bit his lip, dark eyes pleading. “I’m really sorry but I had to tell them. I can’t just sit by and let Angel kill my classmates, not when I know something that might help stop them.”

Spike moved like lightning, grabbing Xander by the shoulders and reversing their positions, until Xander’s back was against the car and Spike was leaning into him. “Think you owe me something for that, pet,” he purred. Xander had instinctively raised his arms defensively and Spike grabbed his wrists, pinning them against the car. He moved closer, aligning their bodies from knee to chest and let a tinge of yellow show in his gaze. “Don’t you?”

Xander looked completely shocked for a fraction of a second then burst into laughter. He struggled half-heartedly to pull one hand free with the obvious intention of hitting Spike but relaxed when Spike refused to let go. “Jerk! God, I thought you were serious for a minute there.”

“I’m very serious, luv.” Spike leaned harder and let Xander feel his growing erection. 

Xander’s laughter died but the sparkle of humor remained in his smiling eyes. “It’s…. possible that having accidentally exposed you to mortal danger from the Slayer, I owe you something.” He screwed up his face in mock thought. “Letter of apology?” he suggested, lips twitching with barely suppressed laughter.

Spike glared. “Have to do a lot better than that, mate.” He thrust his hips forward to emphasize the last word and was pleased when Xander gasped. Spike grinned ferally as he felt Xander’s cock twitch and smelled the first hint of arousal in the night air.

Spike was amused that Xander managed one more come-back, despite his obvious and growing response to Spike’s proximity. “Detail your car?”

“Complete silence for half a mo’,” Spike countered and ensured compliance by closing the narrow gap and kissing Xander hard. He released Xander’s wrists and slid his hands into the dark wavy hair, holding Xander still while his mouth attacked Xander’s. 

Xander opened his mouth under the assault, letting Spike’s tongue dart inside. His own arms closed around Spike, clinging to the sharp angles of the vampire’s shoulder blades. Spike could feel Xander’s erection against his and pushed forward harder, feeling the heat of Xander’s arousal through layers of cloth. Xander’s hips were thrusting up against Spike’s now and Spike dropped one hand to Xander’s ass, cupping it and pulling them closer together. His lips devoured Xander’s as their tongues danced in a complicated rhythm that was as old as time but new and fresh between the two of them.

Xander’s hands began exploring Spike’s back, tracing along the wiry muscles and learning by touch the slender, compact build of the vampire. Two sets of hips rubbed and thrust against each other as tension built until Xander stiffened and jerked, his hips stuttering against Spike’s as the slightly salty aroma of semen rose around them and Xander’s cry was swallowed by Spike’s mouth.

Spike lasted only a moment longer. His hips thrust hard against Xander’s and he reached orgasm in a silent rush, surrounded by the tastes and scents of the boy he had desired for so long.

Their lips parted and for a long moment neither moved, simply leaning against each other in the heady aftermath. Xander’s warm breath puffed against Spike’s neck as his hands continued to trace lightly over Spike’s back. Spike took several deep, unnecessary breaths, reveling in their mingled scents.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So,” Xander finally got his wits back enough to speak. “Does that mean you’re not mad at me?”

Spike looked confused for a second and Xander couldn’t help smiling at the thought that Spike had been as affected by the kiss as he was. Understanding and amusement flared in Spike’s eyes. “Furious, pet. Gonna take a lot to make it up to me.”

Xander’s smile broadened into a satisfied smirk. “I can work with that.” 

“Cheeky bugger.” 

“Seriously, Spike.” Xander reluctantly stirred in Spike’s arms but relaxed contentedly when Spike tightened his hold, keeping him prisoner. His own arms slid down into a loose embrace around Spike’s waist. “Giles said Buffy wouldn’t attack the warehouse but I really don’t want to have caused you any trouble.”

Spike shook his head, looking unconcerned. “Watcher’s right, be suicide to storm the warehouse. No, she’s more likely to lurk around outside and try and take Angelus on one on one than anything else.”

“I think Giles is right about Buffy not being ready to take on her ex yet. She’s sure not showing any signs of wanting to fight him.”

Spike finally released Xander, turning to lean his back against the car, shoulder to shoulder with Xander. He rummaged in his pockets, pulling out his cigarettes and lighter, only to stare at them for a second before tucking them back into his pocket again, unused. “Probably true, pet. Humans get completely fashed about things like killing ex-lovers. All sorts of sentimental twaddle gets in the way.”

Xander laughed. “Yeah, we’re funny that way,” he agreed.

“Let me know if she thinks I’ve violated the truce though, eh, luv? Need to know if I have to start watching my back against the Slayer.”

“I will. I don’t think Mr. Giles thinks you have but I’ll make sure and let you know if Buffy does.” That was easy enough to promise, Xander thought, relieved that Spike wasn’t angry or upset over Xander telling Giles about Angel living at the factory. Spike didn’t even seem worried about it so Xander figured he could stop feeling like he’d done something wrong.

In the relief that followed, Xander suddenly became acutely conscious of the fact that he was standing there in cum-stained jeans. He blushed beet red and snuck a quick peek down at Spike’s jeans, vastly relieved to find that Spike was in no better shape. Looking up, he groaned as he realized Spike had seen what he was doing and, from the smirk twisting Spike’s lips, knew exactly why he was checking out Spike’s groin. Why wasn’t there ever a hole big enough to swallow you around when you needed one? 

“Maybe we should go home,” he suggested. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike eyed the boy sitting beside him on the worn vinyl seat, singing under his breath to some godawful tune he’d found on the radio. He wanted to get Xander something nice for St. Valentine’s Day, coming up in two days. Humans loved sentimental shite like that but he didn’t know what his boy would like. 

Drusilla had been easy to buy presents for. If it was a surprise, she’d loved it. Jewelry, pets, clothes, she’d received them all with childlike excitement. Spike had long ago suspected she simply liked unwrapping and opening the boxes, regardless of what she would find inside. Dru’s visions had so often shown her what was to come that Spike figured it wasn’t really unusual that she had taken such delight in the small surprises hidden inside the wrapped parcels. Spike had showered her with gifts in their years together, partly because she didn’t remember them for long. The clothes would be discarded, torn and bloodstained on the floor, the pets died of starvation and neglect, and the jewelry would as often be found draped over lampshades as worn on Drusilla’s slender body.

He didn’t know what kind of a present to get for Xander. Xander didn’t seem to expect anything from him except friendship which was unheard of in Spike’s experience. He had enough of a picture of Xander’s life to know that there had not been a lot of loving generosity shown towards the boy, especially recently. Despite the fact that he knew he was acting like a besotted fool, Spike wanted to do something to make Xander happy.

Spike grinned as a thought crossed his mind. Xander enjoyed getting out of town and experiencing new things. Spike could do that. 

Satisfied he had a plan, Spike spoke casually as he pulled to a stop outside Xander’s house. “Got anything planned Thursday night, pet?” he asked. Thursday was St. Valentine’s Day.

“Homework, tv, the usual,” Xander shrugged. 

“Pick you up here at 6?” Spike suggested. “Maybe finish that game of pool you interrupted to avoid losing.”

“Hey! I so would have kicked your ass if…, um,” Xander stumbled to a halt in embarrassment, remembering how the pool game had ended.

Spike flashed him a wicked leer. “If my incredibly sexy body hadn’t caused you to throw yourself at me?” he finished helpfully.

“You wish. I gave you a peck on the lips which you totally took advantage of,” Xander rallied with a grin.

“Well, yeah, I’m evil. Taking advantage is my specialty.”

Xander climbed out of the car, then leaned back in for a second. “Spike,” he said seriously. “thanks.”

Spike tilted his head curiously, wondering exactly what his boy was thanking him for. “Any time, pet. See you Thursday.”

Xander nodded and shut the door turning to walk up to the house. Spike watched until he was safely inside, then sped away from the curb. 

He needed to make some calls.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Valentine’s Day dance was the main topic of conversation around the school. For once, Xander was grateful for his loner status that put him outside the groups of gossiping students discussing dates and outfits for the dance. He had no intention of outing himself and inviting Spike to the dance. There lay badness in so many ways. Part of him thought it might almost be worth it to see Willow and Buffy’s reactions but Buffy’s reaction was likely to include violence and Willow’s would surely involve recriminations and hurt looks and just no. Not going there. He wasn’t ashamed of Spike and was proud to be dating the vampire, but he wasn’t going to put the fragile peace to the test of a public meeting, especially a meeting that would necessarily include revelations about his sex life.

With Angel’s history pretty much investigated and the werewolf crisis behind them, there was a lull on the research front. Apparently nothing big was brewing and Giles had Buffy doing far more training than patrolling. 

Angel wasn’t doing anything more than any other vampire, at least so far, and thankfully wasn’t living up to his reputation for mayhem. Xander just hoped that didn’t mean the vampire was biding his time, working up to something big. Up to now, Angel seemed content to play mind games with Buffy - sending her flowers, telling her mother they’d slept together, and generally lurking around in the background like a psychotic wallflower. With the notable exception of murdering Teresa, it all seemed rather petty, like something a jilted teenager would do and not something a demon with Angelus’ reputation should stoop to. On the other hand, Xander couldn’t argue with success. Buffy’s reactions seemed out of proportion for the relative insignificance of the incidents, leaving her off balance and an emotional wreck. Which, Xander supposed, was the point. Frankly, rather than coddling her, he thought Mr. Giles should be shaking some sense into his Slayer but Xander was so not going to express that opinion to anyone.

The week of joint research which had thrown he and Willow together every day had eased the tension between the two of them. Buffy and Spike were off limits as conversation by mutual, silent accord and Xander found they were drifting back into being friends again. It was different, their old easy companionship was probably beyond repair, they were both holding things back and treading lightly, but it was better than it had been in a long time.

Unfortunately, the timing sucked. Willow was practically dancing with excitement over her first “real” dance with a date and Xander was getting the brunt of her enthusiasm. Willow was really trying to not openly display her happiness in front of Buffy, out of consideration for Buffy’s boyfriend issues, but she was wound up and had to talk to someone. Xander had apparently been nominated as the person Willow was getting share-y with since Buffy wasn’t available and it would be too “spazzy” to talk about it in front of Oz. So he walked beside Willow in the halls, nodding and smiling in all the right places, long years of habit kicking in with reminders of the best way to handle Willow’s enthusiasm over something Xander had no interest in. From Barbie dolls and goldfish to incomprehensible Bollywood films and chemistry, Xander had had years of practice in half-listening to excited babble about things he didn’t care about. 

His renewed friendship with Willow meant he was also spending a fair bit of time with Oz and that was of the good. He and Oz had talked a few times without Willow as well, just casual stuff: Oz’s band, the school paper, the swim team’s prospects, but there was, at least on Xander’s part, a growing feeling of trust and the tentative beginnings of friendship that Xander welcomed. They hadn’t talked about anything personal since the day Xander had learned Oz was a werewolf but he had a feeling that he could tell Oz about Spike and that Oz would greet the revelation with the same unflappable calm that was his reaction to almost everything. He’d had the chance to see Oz and Willow together a lot and Xander liked the way Oz treated Willow, especially the way he could gently stop Willow when she was in full flow without hurting her feelings. It was a skill Xander had never acquired and which, more than anything else, convinced him that Oz would be good for Willow.

Still, other than getting to know Oz better, it was a school week he could have lived without. He was comfortably sure that he wasn’t in a relationship that called for all the Valentine’s Day foolishness. After all, one of the perks of being gay had to be that all that mushy stuff was completely left out of the relationship. Plus, Spike was a vampire, no way were vampires into celebrating Valentine’s Day. Dating a gay vampire had to be the best way ever out of Valentine’s Day expectations.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander got out of the car reluctantly. “Spike,” he asked, appalled. “Why are we here?”

Spike surveyed Sunnydale’s mall with resignation. “Gotta pick something up. Won’t take more’n a couple minutes.”

“How about I just wait in the car?” Xander suggested hopefully. When Spike had picked him up tonight, he’d been expecting a quick trip to the bar. A stop at the mall had been the last thing on his mind.

“Won’t do, luv. Need you to watch my back in there. Don’t want you grousing because I lost it and killed a bunch of crazed bints in a shopping frenzy who got on my nerves.”

Xander grumbled but closed the car door and slouched over to join Spike. “Don’t count on me stopping you,” he muttered. “This better not take long. I hate malls.”

“You’ll survive,” Spike informed him unsympathetically.

Xander really did hate malls. Trailing behind Spike, he wasn’t even particularly curious about what Spike needed to pick up. He didn’t like shopping and he usually couldn’t afford to buy anything anyway, so malls were just a giant waste of time in his book. Xander didn’t care about clothes, so long as they were comfortable and relatively clean. He knew that he was generally regarded as a hopeless geek and he knew that he dressed like a loser but he didn’t have a clue about how to dress fashionably even if he could afford it or wanted to.

He did vaguely envy Oz and Spike, neither of whom dressed in anything like what Xander dimly understood as the current fashion trends, but somehow they both just had a certain coolness factor that Xander couldn’t compete with. Oz didn’t actually dress all that differently than Xander but somehow Oz was both accepted and cool when he dressed that way, whereas Xander was just a dork. Spike mostly wore t-shirts and jeans but his body made them infinitely sexy in a way Xander knew he’d never possess. Xander was a realist and had long ago given up any hope he’d ever had of being one of the cool kids. He sighed, grateful that Spike liked him despite the way he looked. 

To Xander’s surprise, Spike led him to the men’s department in one of the more expensive department stores and began rapidly sorting through clothes, pulling out several shirts in rapid succession before moving to a display of jeans.

“You’re buying clothes?”

“Just one or two things, pet. These should do, come on.” Spike gathered up his selections and headed for the dressing room.

“That’s ok, I’m good out here,” Xander said hastily.

Spike snagged his wrist and began towing him into the dressing room before Xander could do more than sputter a protest. “Need you to try these on, luv. They’re for you.”

“What? You’re buying me clothes? Why?”

“Have to,” Spike explained as if it was the most logical thing in the world. Xander was pretty sure he was missing the logic of the situation as he was firmly tugged into a dressing room by Spike, who closed the door behind them. “Have to get you some better kit than you’re wearing or they won’t let you in.”

“They’ve always let me in before.”

“Not going to the bar, got a surprise planned. Come on, let’s see if these fit.”

“Um, Spike? I usually do the changing thing alone and I don’t know about this whole buying clothes idea.” Xander didn’t even look at the clothes Spike had draped over a chair. He knew his clothes were Goodwill crap but he didn’t need charity. “You don’t need to spend money on me, my clothes are fine,” he insisted stubbornly.

“Not like it’s my dosh, luv. Stolen, innit?”

“You want to buy me clothes with stolen money?” Xander sighed. “Does it make me a sociopath that it does make it seem better somehow?”

“Knew there was a reason I liked you. Come on, we’ll be late if you keep dawdling.”

“Where are we going?” Xander asked suspiciously. He glanced at the clothes Spike had picked out and froze. “No. No way. I am not wearing a silk shirt, I’ll look ridiculous. You’re wearing jeans and a t-shirt, why do I need something different?”

“Xander,” Spike’s voice was tinged with exasperation. “My clothes fit.” He reached out and snagged the waistband of Xander’s jeans, tugging to demonstrate how loosely they fit. “Could fit two of you in these bloody things.”

“They’re comfortable,” Xander said defensively, swatting at Spike’s hands which were busy unfastening the top button.

Typically, Spike ignored him and Xander found himself grasping the waistband to keep Spike from tugging his pants off. “Spike!” 

“What’s the problem, luv?” Spike actually stopped and looked searchingly at Xander like he honestly didn’t understand what was wrong. 

Still holding his pants up, Xander’s jaw tightened, embarrassed at Spike’s insistence. “Putting me in fancy clothes isn’t going to change the way I look.” He refastened his pants and started to push past Spike, intent on getting out of the dressing room. He should have known Spike was embarrassed by him. Why on earth had he thought that someone who looked like Spike wouldn’t mind that Xander was just ordinary.

Spike blocked his way. “Nothing wrong with the way you look, Xander. You’re a good looking bloke. Only problem is that no-one can see how handsome my boy is when you wear those atrocious rags.” He smiled at the surprise in Xander’s eyes. “Come on, give them a try. No-one here to see but the two of us.” He leered flirtatiously and Xander had to smile.

“Ok,” Xander gave in reluctantly sure that Spike was going to be disappointed. He toed off his shoes and turned slightly away from Spike as he took his pants off. Spike handed him a pair of jeans and he slipped them on. They were way tighter than anything he was used to wearing and he struggled with the button fly for a second. “Spike, these are too small.”

“They’re just right. Slide out of your shirt now and try this one on.” 

Rolling his eyes, Xander did as instructed, pulling the cotton sweater off over his head and taking the dark blue shirt Spike pushed into his hands. He had to admit the silk felt good, cool and slippery and he gave a little shiver as the fabric slid sensuously along his skin. He buttoned it up and looked into the mirror and jumped in surprise as he found himself alone in the room. Startled, his head snapped around to find Spike still standing behind him.

Fascinated, Xander’s gaze swung back and forth from the vampire to the mirror. “That is so weird,” he breathed. Spike just gave him an exasperated look. “Hey, I knew vampires didn’t have a reflection, it’s just the first time I’ve seen it for myself.”

“Stop looking at me and finish dressing,” Spike ordered.

“I’m not looking at you,” Xander countered. “I’m looking at the not-you in the mirror. And I am dressed.”

Spike shook his head. “Tuck the shirt in,” he instructed.

“Fine.” Xander decided to just get this over with and did as ordered. “Happy now?”

Spike looked him over carefully. “Ecstatic.” He turned Xander around firmly, pointing him at the mirror. “What do you see, luv?”

Xander made a face. “Me.” He felt Spike move to stand close behind him, could feel Spike’s body pressing up against his and was again distracted by searching for any trace of the vampire in the mirror. He could feel Spike’s hands on his shoulders and watched fascinated as his shoulders squared under the touch of invisible hands. He shivered as the hands traced the length of his back and came to rest on his hips. Spike’s voice sounded quietly in his ear.

“Style isn’t really about what you’re wearing, it’s about how you present yourself. If you walk into a room as if you own the place, you’re halfway to ownin’ it.”

Xander thought about that. Spike oozed self-confidence and didn’t seem to care what anyone thought of him. It was part of what made the vampire so attractive. “Ok,” he said slowly, “but then I should be able to wear anything I want and still get into this place you’re taking me.”

Spike snorted in his ear. “Some of it is the actual clothes, luv. Even I couldn’t carry off those rags of yours. Think of it as a picture in the right frame, or in your case, taking the sheet off the sculpture so people can see what’s underneath.” 

Xander closed his eyes and leaned back into Spike as the vampire trailed his strong hands over the tight jeans. “You look good in these, pet. Let me buy them for you and show you off in them.”

Xander sucked in his breath as Spike cupped his groin, hearing Spike’s appreciative little chuckle in his ear. “Ok.”

Spike spun him around and kissed him quickly. Then he scooped up the remaining shirts and sorted through the jeans, picking out two more pairs. He kissed Xander again, stopping the automatic protest before Xander could get the words out. “Might need the spares, luv, in case there’s pool tables in the back.” He laughed at Xander’s embarrassment and hauled him out to the cashier.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike spun the wheel, turning sharply into the parking lot and bumping recklessly through the pot holey gravel until he found a spot to park. Looking around curiously, Xander couldn’t see anything special about the place. Just a low, industrial looking building in the middle of nowhere.

“You made me get dressed up for this place?” 

“Bouncer’s a phrintok demon, very snobby.”

“This place has a bouncer?” Xander hadn’t ever been somewhere that had a bouncer but tv and movies had led him to expect long waiting lines at places with bouncers. Except for the cars, the place looked deserted, shabby and barely lit. Not the kind of place Xander would ever think needed a bouncer.

Spike shrugged, clearly unimpressed by the idea. “Owner’s worried too many humans will find out about the place,” he explained. “Not many humans are allowed in.”

Xander was dubious. “And you think they’re going to allow me in?”

“You’re going to get us admitted, pet.”

Xander stared at Spike in disbelief. “What? No, no, no, no, no,” he said rapidly, the syllables cascading over each other and blending into a single word. “I’m just going to be the invisible guy in your shadow while you talk to the undoubtedly scary bouncer.”

“Not happening, luv. You get us in or we don’t go.” Spike gently pushed Xander’s shoulders back and smoothed imaginary wrinkles out of the silk shirt. “Just remember, luv, you own the place. These people are lucky you agreed to come to their little establishment.” He gave Xander a small push in the direction of the door. “Go on, get us a table. I’m hungry.”

“Right, lucky.” Xander muttered, then squared his shoulders and looked grimly at the door. He started walking slowly across the parking lot, thinking about how he was going to carry this off. He considered trying to imitate Spike’s attitude but sighed in despair knowing he could never carry off the dangerous, sexy swagger that was so much a part of the vampire. Maybe he could channel his inner Oz, going for that Zen calm the older boy wore so well. Plus, not a lot of talking in that scenario and talking would be Xander’s downfall. Well, unless the bouncer was laughing so hard at Xander’s complete lack of cool that he forgot to actually keep them out. Yeah, that was likely.

He hesitated before the door, taking a deep breath, grateful for Spike’s close presence at his back and muttered quietly to himself: “I own the place. These people are lucky to have me here.” He swung the door open before he could chicken out and found himself in a large foyer, empty except for the really big, really scary looking demon leaning against the wall, somehow managing to look bored and menacing at the same time. Like he was bored but the thought of violently tossing humans out of the place was perking him up. 

The demon sneered, displaying fangs that would put a vampire to shame and said curtly, “no humans allowed.”

Xander drew himself up to his full height, almost reaching the demon’s chin, and did his best to sneer back. Hoping desperately the demon didn’t have the supercharged senses that vampires did so that it couldn’t hear his pounding heart, he said coldly, “don’t really care about your rules, now do I? Table for two.”

The demon straightened up and the top of Xander’s head went from almost chin height to somewhere around chest height. Oh, boy. The demon loomed over him, glaring down at him and Xander firmly clamped his jaw shut to stop himself from saying anything stupid, crossing his arms and glaring back at the demon, tapping one foot impatiently, hoping he looked like someone who couldn’t imagine not winning this confrontation and not like someone who needed to pee.

After what felt like forever but was probably only a few seconds, Xander was afraid the demon was going to win their silent staring match by default. Conversationally, he said, “You know, the last time a bouncer tried to keep me out of a place, it didn’t go well for him. He’s still trying to find work even as a dishwasher in the restaurant business. Lost his job and was booted out the door before we’d even reached our table. Which place was that again, Spike?”

Spike’s amused voice smoothly filled in the gaping hole in his story. “Vrosh’ta’uin’s club, luv. Old Vrosh was more than a bit put out that his bouncer didn’t recognize you.”

Xander cocked his head inquiringly at the bouncer. “So, table for two or the unemployment line. Your choice. Either let us in now or be prepared to explain to the little woman why you aren’t bringing home a paycheck after tonight.”

The demon gave a short bark of what Xander fervently hoped was laughter. “Got balls, little boy, trying to get inside with that crock story. Still, first person tonight who’s made me laugh.”

To Xander’s astonished disbelief, the bouncer opened the door for them, giving him a friendly clout on the shoulder that almost knocked him off his feet. He stumbled through the door and heard Spike’s warm chuckle in his ear as the vampire kept him from falling flat on his face. “Good work, pet.”

Flushed with victory, Xander looked around the dimly lighted interior. “What kind of restaurant is this?” he asked curiously, seeing the abnormally wide aisles with waiters pushing little carts down them.

“Ever heard of dim sum?” 

He looked at Spike over his shoulder. “That’s those Chinese restaurants where they bring little carts of food by your table, right?” He brightened even further. “Cool! I’ve always wanted to eat at one of those.”

“Well, it’s kind of dim sum for demons, luv.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

As he followed Xander to the table, Spike smiled at Xander’s glee at having successfully gotten past the bouncer. Spike had been ready to step in if necessary but it hadn’t been. Having Xander handle the situation had been a spur of the moment impulse but Spike was glad he’d thought of it. His boy needed more self-confidence and watching him practically bouncing his way to the table, excitedly checking out the dishes being served in the enormous dining hall, Spike was reminded of his own first waking after death. The vitality of unlife had been a heady elixir, power surging through him until he’d felt like he could do anything. The unaccustomed strength that had filled him had given Spike confidence and a cocky assurance he’d never had as a human. He’d felt free of all the constraints that had bound him since childhood, indifferent to worries that had once plagued his existence, and had wanted to seek out and destroy every reminder of the pathetic existence he once had. 

Xander was having a brief taste of the exhilaration that came from winning a small victory on sheer bravado alone and was clearly relishing it. Spike thought it would be good for the boy. He let his eyes trace along Xander’s frame, lingering on his boy’s ass which he was getting his first decent view of. Xander was utterly scrumptious in the close-fitting new clothes that showed off his lean frame. His old baggy, unpressed, untucked disasters had been shoved into the trunk and Spike had only refrained from burning them with an effort. Once Xander learned to stop slouching self-consciously as if trying minimize his presence and learned to carry himself with self-confidence, he would be a knockout. It still amazed Spike that the boy had no sense of how attractive he was. Whether it was because he still had a typical adolescent’s lack of coordination - although the self-defense lessons were already helping with that, or because he was genuinely oblivious, Spike didn’t know. Boy just needed a little guidance in how to dress and carry himself. He’d pick it up in no time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Heading home from the restaurant, Xander collapsed limply in the car, leaning back against the seat oblivious for once to Spike’s crazed take on driving. “I can’t believe I ate so much.”

Spike laughed. “I can’t believe you ate some of the things you did, pet. Good on you.”

Xander groaned. “I ate parts of the body I didn’t even know existed.” He rolled his head in Spike’s direction. “Damn sneaky vampire. Can’t believe you wouldn’t tell me what those things were first.”

“Wouldn’t have tried them then, would you?” Spike asked reasonably. It had been fun, and Xander had gotten into the spirit of the place, blindly choosing dishes based on what they looked or smelled like or based on Spike’s recommendations. He hadn’t even blinked when Spike ordered human blood for himself, which they served in enormous balloon glasses like oversized wine goblets. Spike had had fun gleefully informing Xander what it was he’d just eaten and that had led to conversation about the wide variety of demons in the world. Spike had pointed out the thirty or so different species in the dining hall as well as describing the species that made up some of the dishes on the serving carts. Xander had choked when Spike told him that he was eating Telrynta toes. In fact, he’d been eating them with great relish, dipping them into the traditional sauce and eyeing the laden carts for a second helping. For a moment Xander had stared, appalled, at the half eaten one in his hand. “This is a toe?” he’d asked incredulously. Spike had assured him that it was and after a long stare, Xander had shrugged and finished the pastry-wrapped digit. “’s really good,” he’d mumbled as he finished it.

They’d lingered for hours over the table and it had been a carefree interval such as Spike had rarely known since coming to Sunnydale. For the time being, all thought of the problems that loomed on the horizon for both of them had been pushed aside. 

Looking over at his boy, Spike smiled softly and reached across and tugged Xander closer until he was resting against his side. The human warmth of the drowsy boy was lovely and he surreptitiously dropped a kiss on the top of Xander’s head. He’d been hoping to end the night differently but his boy was too sleepy to start anything. He was really going to have to get used to the fact that humans didn’t have the stamina of vampires. Barely 3 a.m. and his boy was out on his feet. He tucked Xander even closer to his side and drove through the darkness, anticipating the time when he could have this lovely warm body in his bed permanently.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Returning to the factory after taking Xander home, sated and content even without a sexual end to the evening, Spike was relaxed and careless in the familiarity of home. He didn’t notice Angelus lurking near the back wall of the main room as he entered. If he had, he would have seen the way Angelus’ nostrils flared as he smelled Xander Harris’ scent all over Spike. And he would have seen the calculating look in his Sire’s eyes before Angelus faded back into the shadows and silently left the room.


	22. Chapter 22

“Xander.”

Xander had stayed late at school at Mr. Giles’ request. The librarian had asked if Xander would give him a hand with some rearranging of the books in the library. Willow was watching Oz’s band play and Buffy was out patrolling. Xander hadn’t minded helping, having been meaning to talk to Mr. Giles alone for awhile now. As they had shifted books around to make way for a couple of boxes of new books sent from the Watchers Council in England, Xander asked the librarian for recommendations for the best books to read to get a general knowledge of the most common demons likely to be found on the Hellmouth. Mr. Giles had been enthusiastic and had begun laying out a course of study that would have kept Xander busy until he was Spike’s age. Talking about it as they worked, they came to an agreement on a beginner’s survey course rather than the full Watcher’s education Giles had been proposing. Xander had no intention of giving up eating, sleeping, and hopefully one day soon sex, to spend 20 hours a day studying. He wanted to learn more but not in an insane devote-his-whole-life-to-it way.

Xander stopped for a moment, a book resting halfway on the shelf, considering what he’d just been thinking. Did he want to have sex with Spike? Ignoring the immediate, enthusiastic “Hell, yes!” from his libido, he thought about it. He knew that Spike and he were moving in that direction but his knowledge of the mechanics of gay sex was pretty much limited to locker room taunts that did not make for happy thoughts about actually doing it. On the other hand, Spike was being incredibly patient with him, especially considering that the vampire wasn’t exactly known for his patience. Spike was…Spike was courting him, Xander realized with a warm glow, and he was enjoying being courted. He didn’t think that made him girly, actually it made him feel pretty damn good. 

Walking home later through the early twilight, Xander thought about Spike again as he found himself doing so often these days. He had enjoyed everything he and Spike had done so far, enjoyed it so much that replays frequently starred in his fantasies. As Spike had said, it was all just friction. Besides, since guys had been doing it together for thousands of years, there had to be something to it. He’d spent way too much time in his head recently, Xander decided. Maybe he should just let his body take the lead for this one. 

The quiet voice behind him calling his name brought Xander out of musings. Turning to see who it was, Xander was surprised not to find anyone behind him. “Hello?’ he called. There was no response for a moment, then the bushes stirred and Angel stepped out into the open. 

“Don’t be frightened,” he said quickly. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Xander stumbled back a couple of steps at the shock of suddenly seeing the vampire. Heart pounding, he hurriedly snatched the cross from his back pocket and brought it around in front of him, holding it between himself and Angel like the fragile shield it was. “What do you want?” he asked harshly, checking surreptitiously for the best route to run like hell.

“I need your help,” Angel, Angelus, Xander reminded himself, took a step towards him but stopped as Xander moved back at the same instant, keeping the distance between them from closing. He waited, apparently expecting a response, but Xander didn’t answer him. His mouth was so dry he didn’t think he could have said a word to save his life, so he just continued to watch the vampire in wary silence. 

“I need you to help me get in touch with Giles,” Angel finally explained, his tone pleading for understanding. “My soul is back. I don’t know how it happened exactly but… I felt magic go through me like a cleansing whirlwind. It felt exactly like it did a century ago when I was first cursed.” He shrugged, his eyes clouded with pain and memories. “When I recovered, I was myself again.” 

He waited but Xander still didn’t say anything. Every muscle tense, cross still held out in front of him to ward the vampire off, Xander kept his mouth shut, studying Angel and thinking hard.

Angel sighed. The tiny sound was mournful in the stillness between them. “I know it’s hard to believe and I don’t blame you for mistrusting me.” He winced. “I remember everything I’ve done in the last few weeks, how much I’ve hurt everyone and I’m hoping you can help me like you helped Spike.” He looked up again, brows knitted together. “Did you know that Ms. Calendar was a gypsy?”

Xander tried to avoid reacting away as he shook his head in what he hoped looked like puzzled denial, terrified of giving things away to the damn vampire lie detecting senses. He was afraid he hadn’t been successful from the way Angel’s eyes flickered, but the vampire just said: “It’s ok. After my soul was restored, I went to the magic shop hoping to learn who had done it. The owner told me there were two powerful gypsies in town and that one of them was Jenny Calendar.”

Wondering what was coming next, Xander found he was gripping the cross so hard, his hand was beginning to hurt, but he didn’t dare relax his vigilance.

“I’m assuming she found a way to duplicate the original spell. I guess her people still knew the magics involved.” Angel took a single step forward and held out a hand as Xander retreated a matching step. “Please,” he said earnestly, “you’re the only one who can help me get back in touch with the others. I need to make up for the terrible things I’ve done.”

Xander relaxed his clenched jaw with an effort and finally spoke, his tone almost conversational. “Just how dumb do you think I am?” Maybe it would have been better to play along with the vampire but he couldn’t believe Angelus was trying something like this on him again. Did Angelus really think he’d fall for this twice? Plus, he couldn’t see any way that playing along with the evil undead would end well, so what was the point? 

The aura of sadness and remorse dropped away from Angelus like the badly fitting cloak it was and he straightened, sneering at Xander. “Oh, I think you’re plenty stupid, boy. After all, aren’t you the one who spent months obsessing over having staked a useless fledgling?”

Xander struggled to keep from giving in to the wave of fury that remark brought.  
“Excuse me?” he snapped back incautiously. “Mr. I-spent-100-years-obsessing-over-my-sins.”

“That wasn’t me.” Angelus hadn’t lost his smirk but his eyes flared with glints of yellow.

Xander glared at Angelus, pulling the stake out of his back pocket. Even knowing it was stupid to antagonize someone with Angelus’ reputation, he couldn’t stop himself after the vampire’s crack about Jesse. “Of course it was you or you wouldn’t remember anything that your body’s done in the last century. It was just you with a little something extra.” 

“That was the soul, boy and the soul is gone. You’re dealing with me now. I’d be careful if I were you.” The vampire’s eyes were golden and his mocking grin had slipped, giving Xander a vicious feeling of satisfaction at being able to rattle the vampire. Which probably only served to make Angel’s point; he probably was an idiot for poking an uncaged tiger this way.

“Yeah, like being careful is going to change your mind about whatever it is you’re planning. No matter what you try to tell yourself, Angelus, the demon wasn’t vacationing in Florida. The demon was in there with the soul while your body was doing all those sickeningly nice things. A hundred years fighting to get out and your demon couldn’t win.” 

Angelus moved like lightning, grabbing Xander and slamming him up against a tree. Xander’s breath whooshed out of him as his back hit the bark hard enough to draw a pained gasp but he kept his grip on the cross and swung it savagely, aiming for Angelus’ face. A large hand closed around his wrist, stopping him short of his goal. Angelus flinched at the close proximity to the cross, averting his face as much as possible, but forcing Xander’s hand away from himself with relentless strength, twisting Xander’s wrist until he cried out and the cross fell from his nerveless fingers. 

Angelus snarled furiously: “You are about to get a practical demonstration of the difference between me and Angel.”

Xander struggled against the inhumanly strong grip, bringing the stake up, regretting not using it first. Angelus laughed and batted the stake away and Xander heard it skitter away down the sidewalk. Weaponless now, he stopped struggling and dropped like dead weight towards the ground. Angelus lost his grip as Xander’s weight shifted suddenly and Xander suddenly found himself on the ground looking up at the vampire. Bringing both legs up, he kicked up as hard as he could, aiming for Angelus’ groin. The vampire snarled and jumped back to avoid the two-footed kick. Using the momentum of the missed kick, Xander rolled to his feet in a move Spike had taught him, facing Angelus again. Weaponless, but on his feet and ready. 

Angelus laughed again. “So the little boy wants to play. Could be interesting. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

“What I’ve got is an annoying jerk in my face,” Xander shot back. He moved back warily, trying to get some distance between himself and Angelus. Angelus feinted towards him and Xander broke and ran, running towards the road. He was at the edge in three steps, and stooped and grabbed a handful of gravel, turning and bringing it up in one movement. As he’d hoped, Angelus was toying with him and was several feet back. Xander threw the gravel at his face, causing Angelus to duck, then turned and ran again, sprinting with everything he had for the safety of the nearest house. If he could just get inside, Angelus wouldn’t be able to follow.

He was tackled from behind before he’d gotten halfway up the walk, Angelus’ weight bearing him down and knocking the breath out of him as he landed on the concrete walkway with the vampire’s full weight landing on top of him. Struggling for enough breath to scream, Xander waited for the bite he fully expected. To his surprise, it didn’t happen. Instead, Angelus hauled them both to their feet, holding Xander pinned against his body. His arms trapped by the vampire’s arm wrapped around his middle, Xander tried to kick backwards, but Angelus blocked it and a crushing grip closed around his throat in warning. 

“I’m really beginning to wonder what my boy Spike sees in you. Not much of a fighter, are you?” Angel leaned closer, purring the taunting words directly into Xander’s ear. “Just a useless kid. I’ll be doing him a favor, getting rid of you.”

Furious, sure he was going to die, Xander lost any thought of caution and struck back with the only weapon left to him. “Admit it, you undead freak, the soul is stronger than the demon. An ordinary human soul made a Master Vampire jump through hoops for over a hundred years. You’re weak. A pathetic excuse for a demon. Spike is worth ten of you.”

“Let’s find out, shall we?”

Angelus’ grip tightened around Xander’s throat, shutting off his air. Xander struggled wildly, unable to bring his hands up enough to claw at the grip, unable to kick effectively as Angelus lifted him off the ground, unable to even scream for help. His vision began to blur and his oxygen-starved lungs heaved desperately attempting to draw breath. Slowly, the useless struggles stopped, his vision darkened and the last thing he heard before the world went black was Angelus’ mocking laugh.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Returning to the factory, Spike was brought up short by the sight of Angelus slouched in his chair, legs up over the armrest. Jaw set, he strode towards the older vampire, determined to once again show his Sire who was Master here.

“Spike!” Angelus called jovially. He gestured towards the minions clustered around him. “I was just telling the boys here what I’ve been up to. Left a sweet little present for the Watcher.”

Spike eyed him with distrust. “Another of your little sketches? You used to have more style, Angelus.”

“For once, you’re right, Spike. I’ve been off my game recently. So, I decided to do something about that.” Angelus swung his feet down to the floor and sat back in the chair, arms folded behind his head, the picture of relaxed contentment. Spike wasn’t fooled though, he caught the tension in his Sire’s muscles and the anticipatory gleam in Angelus’ eyes. It made him cautious.

Eyes flickering to the minions, most of whom had stepped back but were eagerly watching the conversation, Spike had a feeling that the building tension between himself and Angelus was coming to a head. Angelus had been causing problems again, courting the minions, trying to win their loyalty and Spike feared his Sire was on the verge of making a bid to take over the Court. His thoughts racing as he considered how to handle this, Spike asked without any real curiosity, “and what would that be?” He didn’t really care what Angelus had done, he was mostly wondering whether it was something he could use against his Sire.

“It’s been a long time since I really took the time to savor a kill, to make sure that their family and friends appreciated the artistry I’m capable of.” 

Spike rolled his eyes. Angelus could be such a pompous windbag when he got on a roll about how great he was. “Let me guess, some little kiddie arranged prettily on the Watcher’s doorstep? You always did go for the helpless prey.”

Angelus’ eyes narrowed dangerously but otherwise he ignored the snide tone. “Too trite and prosaic, you’ve always lacked poetry, Spike. No, I set up the perfect date for the old man. Champagne on ice, soft music, rose petals leading the way to his ladylove, who lies waiting for him on the bed. He won’t see much action with her,” he paused thoughtfully, “unless he’s into necrophilia, of course,” he added with a smirk.

Vintage Angelus. A simple kill was never enough for him. Always wasting his energy on foolish trappings. Watching the minions hang on Angelus’ every word, Spike realized he needed to make a point, fast. He glared at Angelus. “Are you insane?” His voice was filled with disbelieving contempt. “I know you’ve been out of the game a while, mate, but you’re supposed to kill Slayers, not leave gag gifts in their Watcher’s beds.” Angelus continued to lounge indolently in the chair but Spike could sense his growing anger. “Still too frightened of the Slayer to take her on directly, are you Angelus? I killed my two Slayers clean, straightforward fights both of ‘em. You waste your time playing with the Slayer’s Watcher. Pathetic.”

The minions’ heads were swiveling back and forth between the two Masters and Spike could almost feel the balance shifting back towards himself.

“Spike, boy,” Angelus growled, “you don’t get it. This Slayer is different: she doesn’t work alone. Her friends make her stronger than most Slayers but they also make her weak because they can be used against her. I’m just having a bit of fun with her for now because she reacts so beautifully.” 

“Well, if you ask me, I find myself preferring the old Slayer-whipped, soul-having, personna. This new, improved version of you is not playing with a full sack. I love a good slaughter as much as the next bloke but your little pranks will only leave us with one incredibly brassed-off Slayer.”

“Don't worry, Childe. I've got everything under control.”

As if the gods themselves wanted to prove him wrong, at that exact moment a bottle hurtled through the air, landing on the long central table and shattering, spraying glass fragments on the closest minions and releasing the nearly overpowering odor of kerosene. It burst into flames a split second after it landed, the fire roaring skyward, individual tongues of flame darting hungrily along the trails left by the spilled fuel, spreading rapidly across the length of the table and leaping the narrow gap to two minions who’d been standing near the edge of the table and had been splattered with kerosene. They screamed and ran, frantically trying to outrun the flames already igniting the kerosene spots on their clothing. They only made it a few steps before the undead tissue of their bodies caught fire and they exploding into fiery ash. The pillars of fire that had once been vampires burned hotly before the ashes themselves were consumed and the flames vanished with the bodies. 

Everyone else in the room ducked back from the flames, shielding themselves with anything handy, scrambling to avoid the fleeing minions who risked spreading the flames in their mindless flight.

Spike had instinctively swung his leather coat as a shield between himself and the fire and he lowered it just in time to see Angelus make a run for the exit, only to be hit with a crossbow bolt. It landed perilously close to his heart and he staggered back against the wall with a cry of pain. Reaching up, he yanked out the bolt, looking around for the source of the attack.

The Watcher appeared through the smoke like an avenging angel, swinging a baseball bat down through the heart of the flames still burning madly on the table. It had obviously been pre-treated to make it catch fire readily. A single sweep through the fire lit it and, before Angelus could move, the Watcher swung the flaming weapon viciously across Angelus’ face. Angelus staggered and almost went down and the human brought the bat down again with rage-driven strength, dropping the vampire to the floor. Two more savage blows landed on Angelus’ back before the vampire was able to struggle to his feet, only to be knocked back against the wall by a well-placed strike across his jaw. The enraged human fought in eerie silence as he sent Angelus stumbling to the ground again, blow after blow falling on the vampire’s shoulders and back. Angelus barely made it to his feet this time, staggering upright under the rain of blows that continued to hammer him, keeping him off balance and struggling to remain upright, completely unable to fight back.

The minions scattered, running for the exits like the lemmings they were. Spike hesitated, torn. Part of him was getting a great deal of satisfaction watching the human beat Angelus to a bloody pulp. Another part of him raged at seeing a human getting the better of his Sire. Keeping a cautious eye on the flames, Spike waited for now, poised to intervene, but just watching to see the outcome. Everything under control, eh Sire? he thought contemptuously. Angelus himself had taught Spike long ago when he was a barely turned fledge that vampires who made themselves too conspicuous died hard at human hands. Pity Angelus was no better than Spike had ever been at following his own teachings.

It didn’t take long for Angelus to regroup. The Watcher lifted the bat over his head with both hands, gathering momentum for what was clearly intended to be a particularly devastating strike, and Angelus seized his chance. He surged up, grabbing the bat as the human held it still for a moment too long. A second later and the flaming bat was plucked from the human’s hand and tossed aside. Angelus seized the Watcher by the throat, lifting the struggling human off his feet until the Watcher was dangling helplessly in mid-air. The human scrabbled at the throttling hand, desperately trying to pry the harsh grip loose. 

Angelus snarled at his assailant turned victim. “All right. You’ve had your fun. You know what it’s time for now?”

He was interrupted by a hoarse voice slicing through the crackling of the flames. “My fun.”

The Slayer appeared out of nowhere, kicking Angelus hard in the face. Angelus dropped the nearly-unconscious Watcher and turned to face the new threat. Spike still hesitated in the background, not yet ready to interfere. To his way of thinking, Angelus had a solid beat-down coming to him. 

The battle between the Slayer and Angelus ranged over the lower floor of the warehouse. The Slayer was, as Spike had predicted, fighting with the strength of rage, and Angelus was on the ropes. Already injured from the Watcher’s blows, Angelus couldn’t recover fast enough to get the upper hand with the Slayer. She made no move to draw a stake, seemingly content to just use her fists on her former lover, which made Spike wonder if she was still unable to bring herself to kill Angelus. 

The flames were growing dangerous and Angelus would die in the factory if something wasn’t done soon. Needing to get out of there and cursing himself for a sentimental idiot, Spike intervened for the first time. He caught the Slayer’s arm as she swung it back for another blow on the nearly unconscious Angelus. She turned to glare at Spike, out of control fury in her eyes. “Watcher’s burning, Slayer,” Spike said, loudly enough for a human to hear over the roar of the flames.

The Slayer froze, dropping Angelus and turning to stare back at her Watcher who lay unmoving on the floor, perilously close to the flames. She abandoned the fight with Angelus instantly, leaping through the tongues of flame and hurrying to the unconscious Watcher, hoisting him to his feet and dragging him out of the factory with her. 

Spike did much the same for his Sire. He stooped and grabbed one of Angelus’ arms, slinging it around his neck and pulling the larger vampire to his feet. Angelus was barely conscious, his feet stumbling clumsily as Spike hastily fled the flaming warehouse with his Sire. 

Outside, the air was shockingly cold after the heat of the fire and the chill brought Angelus around. Spike went barely a block from the factory before dropping Angelus and letting him sag down against the wall of a building. Angelus leaned against the wall and Spike glared at him, waiting for his Sire to recover enough to pay attention and restraining himself from kicking Angelus to vent some of his annoyance. After a minute or so, Angelus stirred, straightening slightly and looking over at Spike. 

“Nice work, Angelus.” Spike drawled sarcastically as soon as he was sure his Sire had recovered sufficiently to understand him. He was barely keeping his fury in check. “That’s my home you’ve burned down. Love your definition of having everything under control.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve already got a new place picked out,” Angelus winced and struggled a bit more upright as he spoke.

“If you think for one bloody second that I’m going to live in your home while you play at being Master…”

“You’ll do what I say from now on, Childe. You’ve pretended to be a Master long enough. I’m taking over.”

“You think so?” Spike asked with contempt, watching his Sire move just far enough from the wall so he wasn’t leaning against it anymore and stagger slightly before regaining his balance. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t stake you right now, you arrogant, brainless git.”

“Only one reason? I can give you a dozen. But one will do.”

Angelus reached into the pocket of his coat and tossed something to him. Spike automatically snagged it in midair and looked at it with scant interest, then froze. It was a sleeve torn from a familiar, godawful brown shirt. Xander’s scent rose faintly from the ragged scrap of material.

Smoke and blood-stained, clothes torn and rumpled, Angelus’ smirk said he thought he held all the cards. “Funny thing about little toys like your boy, Spike. They break so easily.”

The scrap of fabric fell unheeded to the ground as Spike yelled with incoherent fury, smashing his fist into Angelus’ face before the other vampire had time to react. The last vestiges of control a distant memory, lost in the overwhelming rage that Angelus had dared touch what was his, Spike found himself holding Angelus upright with one hand twisted in his coat as he smashed his fist into the other vampire’s face over and over again, reveling in the feel of skin splitting and blood flowing. 

Angelus had been taken by surprise by the first blow and several others landed before he could recover enough to strike back. He kicked out, slamming his foot into Spike’s kneecap and sending the younger vampire crumpling to the ground as his knee collapsed under him. On an even level with Spike now, Angelus threw himself forward, using his greater size and weight to overwhelm the smaller vampire, pushing him backwards and bearing his shoulders towards the ground.

Spike twisted like a cat, ignoring the pain in his knee and landed on his face instead of his back. Pulling his legs under him, he shoved upwards with all of his strength, lifting them both off the ground and wrenching himself out of Angelus grip. Pivoting on his good leg, he brought his damaged leg up, aiming a vicious kick at the other vampire. 

Angelus succeeded in partially blocking the kick and struck back himself. As the two exchanged a flurry of savage blows, Spike was worryingly aware that Angelus was back to full strength. It wasn’t the first time he’d wondered if the reason his Sire had been so relatively low profile with the Slayer and her little band was because Angelus was waiting to recover from a century of poor feeding. Now, Spike was certain. Ducking underneath a backhanded blow, leaping up to deliver a kick to his Sire’s chest, Spike was uneasily certain that Angelus and he were only evenly matched in the fight because Angelus had started this fight already injured. Spike had to finish this now or he might not be able to take his Sire when he’d had time to recover.

Suiting action to thoughts, Spike spun quickly, putting a small amount of distance between himself and Angelus. Using the barely second long respite, he yanked a stake out of his pocket. Angelus snarled in fury as Spike held the wooden stake up with deadly intent, closing again on the older vampire. The fight increased in intensity, Angelus now aware he was fighting for his survival. Blows came with lightning speed, neither vampire able to either seize or hold the advantage for long, until Spike succeeded in sweeping Angelus’ legs out from under him.

Angelus crashed to the ground like a felled tree and Spike pounced, bringing the stake whistling down towards Angelus’ heart with both hands. Angelus barely got his own hands up in time, grabbing Spike’s wrists and stopping the downward motion only inches from his chest. The two struggling in deadly earnest, the one to bring the stake down, the other to keep it from piercing his flesh. 

To Spike’s astonishment, Angelus began laughing. Muscles straining against each other, Angelus’ laughter suddenly filled the deadly silence that had existed between them since the start of the fight. Confused, but not relenting in the slightest, Spike glanced up from his target to Angelus’ face.

“Do you really think you’ll find him before he starves to death if you stake me?” Even in this extremity, Angelus’ voice held the smug satisfaction of one who knows he holds the winning hand.

Angelus’ words cut through Spike’s blind concentration on killing his Sire and he hesitated as the reality of what Angelus had said struck home. Vampires could live for weeks if necessary without feeding but humans were far more fragile. Xander could easily die while Spike searched for him. His driving intent faltered and Angelus seized the opening, bringing his legs up in one swift movement, wedging them under Spike’s body and levering the younger vampire off of him. Hands still gripping Spike’s wrists, the two vampires rolled as one, coming to their knees facing each other, still locked together with the stake in between.

“Kill me and the boy dies,” Angelus taunted.

After a long moment, Spike opened his hands and let the stake fall. The clattering as it fell to the ground echoed unnaturally loudly in the near silence.

Angelus pushed Spike away from him contemptuously and both vampires sagged to the ground just out of touching range, exhausted by the battle. For a minute, there was only the harsh sound of their panting, the vampire equivalent of sweat, as both struggled to recover enough to move. Similarly battered, the two stared at each other, Angelus with triumphant certainty of his victory, Spike with despair at his inability to act for fear of endangering Xander. 

“From now on, Childe, you’ll do what I say,” Angelus repeated. 

Spike nodded silently, his lethal glare promising bloody vengeance against his Sire.


	23. Chapter 23

“Where is he?” Even as he said it, Spike knew it was the wrong thing to say. It played directly into Angelus’ hands and gave the older vampire even more control over the situation than he already had. But he couldn’t not ask, despite the fact that he knew Angelus wasn’t likely to answer him.

“Doesn’t work like that, boy. You earn the privilege of seeing him again.”

Figuring he might as well go the whole distance with this move, Spike countered with his own stubbornness. “Think I’m taking your word for it that the boy is still alive and unharmed? Not likely. You give me proof and let me see him or we end this game here and now. Not exactly known for telling it straight, Angelus.”

Angelus laughed but Spike could see the calculation going on behind his eyes. Angelus was weighing how far he could push this without losing his edge. Spike was well aware that Angelus wanted his submission as part of assuming Mastership of the Hellmouth. If the former Master submitted willingly to Angelus’ domination, the power transmission would be smooth and uncontested. Otherwise Angelus’ choices were either to kill Spike or to set his Court up as a rival to Spike’s and begin a war that could last for months. Spike was sure Angelus didn’t want either of the latter two options: a fight to the death carried both the risk of losing and the likelihood of being so weakened from the battle that other vampires, even minions, would seize on his vulnerability and try to kill Angelus and take over. Setting up a rival Court was also a poor risk: two competing Courts rarely worked out well for the challenger. The challenger who set up a rival Court was generally considered too weak to directly challenge the original Master and had trouble attracting members for the Court. No, Angelus wanted his submission and that gave Spike some leverage to use against his Sire.

“He’s alive. He’s a bit battered but that’s what happens to mouthy little pricks who don’t respect their betters.” Spike felt a surge of pride in Xander that his boy hadn’t been cowed by Angelus even as the banked embers of his rage flared to life again as Angelus boasted of having touched what was Spike’s. Angelus, his eyes sharpening on Spike’s face, obviously sensed something of Spike’s reaction but Spike kept his face outwardly neutral and Angelus let it go. “You can see him tomorrow evening, after you’ve submitted to me in front of the entire Court and freely handed over the Mastery of the Hellmouth.”

“Gonna be a bit difficult to assemble the Court, innit?” Spike asked, exasperated all over again as he gestured towards the burning factory. The now fully-engulfed building was clearly going to be unusable. Fire trucks were arriving and the block was a Dantean scene of confusion as firefighters rushed around, laying out hoses and trying to keep the fire from spreading to other buildings. Idly, Spike wondered if the Slayer and her Watcher had made it out but he didn’t really care either way. “Minions will have scattered halfway to hell and back.”

Angelus smirked. “I’ve been working on setting up a new base for days. They’ll know where to go. Not a particularly loyal bunch, Spike, you should have chosen more carefully.”

Spike shrugged with seeming indifference though he was rocked to learn that Angelus had been able to begin setting up a power base without Spike hearing about it. “Inherited ‘em, didn’t I? Most of ‘em aren’t worth dusting. Just never bothered to turn and train new ones.”

Angelus shook his head in mock disapproval. “Never were much good at the long view, Childe. Good thing I’m taking over.”

“Sod off!” Spike gritted his teeth to stop himself from saying anything more. Only a short time ago, it had felt good to hear Angelus call him Childe again after all the years of silence. Now, his Sire was wielding the name like a weapon and Spike hated it. He wanted to tear his Sire to pieces but was hamstrung by not knowing where Xander was. Once he’d found Xander, freed him and hidden him away from Angelus, his Sire was going to find out exactly who was Master here. He looked up at the sky. “How far’s this place of yours?” he asked. “Be daylight in 20 minutes.”

Startled, Angelus looked to the horizon, already streaked with pink and gold, and bit out some truly impressive profanity. Between the battle and the distraction of the fire, he obviously hadn’t noticed how close to dawn it had gotten. “We’ll have to find a place to hole up for the day,” he decided. “The new Court’s out on Crawford Street, we’ll never make it there in time.”

“Great. Got yourself a little suburban dream house, have you? Can’t wait to see it.” 

“Shut up, Spike.” Angelus jerked his head in the direction of one of the other abandoned buildings in the area and the two battle-scarred vampires headed away from the lights and sirens, hurrying to find shelter against the sunrise. Spike just hoped they’d find a homeless person in the building Angelus was leading them to. He needed to feed or he wouldn’t heal and he had a feeling he’d need all his strength to deal with his Sire come the night.

As they walked, they were both thinking of a dark-haired boy, one speculating in worry, the other remembering with relish what had happened to him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander had been jolted sharply awake as he was dropped suddenly to land on an unfamiliar bed. Disoriented, he looked around, not recognizing his surroundings or remembering what had happened. 

“Finally awake, I see,” a terrifyingly familiar voice spoke from behind him. 

Xander instinctively rolled away from the voice, landing with a crash on the floor beside the bed. He scrambled to his feet and glared at Angelus as the vampire sarcastically applauded him. 

“Graceful,” Angelus commented mockingly.

The vampire was leaning against the opposite wall, arms folded, looking like patience incarnate, except for the malicious amusement in his eyes. Xander took a hasty look at his surroundings and discovered he was in what looking like an old apartment. An old apartment with boarded up windows, he realized with a sinking feeling in his gut. The only light came from a lantern sitting on the floor near where Angelus lounged indolently. “What do you want?” he asked nervously.

“You offered me the chance to prove I was as good as Spike,” Angel’s smirk was already wearing on Xander. “I’m taking you up on it.”

“I did not. What are you talking about?” If this was some sort of game, Xander was clueless about the rules.

“You said Spike was worth ten of me. You don’t just say something like that without giving me a chance to prove you wrong.” Angelus unfolded himself from the wall, stepping closer. Xander retreated two steps before hitting the wall behind him. 

“No. No proving. No proving of anything. You stay the hell away from me.”

“Or what? Do you really think you have any chance to stopping me from doing anything I want?”

“Maybe not. But I’m not just going to lie down and take it.”

Angelus leapt over the bed before Xander had finished his sentence, moving so quickly that Xander didn’t have a chance to react. Grabbing Xander, Angelus flung him onto the bed so that he landed hard on his back. Xander started to roll off on the other side but Angelus pounced on top of him, pinning him down. He grabbed Xander’s wrists, trapping them against the mattress. 

“Looks like you are going to lie down and take it, boy,” Angelus leered. “Which leaves us with a lot of interesting possibilities.” He settled down, seating himself on Xander’s hips and staring down into his face. Xander was miserably aware that he was doing a lousy job of hiding his fear. 

“It’s really puzzled me that Spike hasn’t bothered to mark you.” Angelus pulled on Xander’s left arm, tucking the forearm under Angelus’ leg and pinning it down with his knee, freeing one of Angelus’ hands. “I guess he’s not been worried about anyone else claiming you. I may just have to teach him better.” He leaned forward, shifting to vampire face. “I’ve got plans for tonight. A snack first will hit the spot.”

Xander yelled, screaming for help, fighting and bucking beneath Angelus’ weight. The vampire just laughed at his futile struggles, clapping a hand over Xander’s mouth. “A little quiet while I feed, please.”

Xander bit down hard on the fleshy part of Angelus’ palm. Angelus swore and jerked his hand free, backhanding Xander in the same motion, splitting his lip until the taste of his own blood in his mouth mingled with that of the vampire’s. 

“You need to learn manners, boy,” Angelus snarled. With one clean jerk, he tore the sleeve off Xander’s shirt and used it to gag him, letting go of Xander’s wrist long enough to swiftly wrap the makeshift gag around Xander’s head. As soon as his arm was free, Xander hit Angelus as hard as he could, striking out awkwardly and ineffectively, hampered by his position. Angelus ignored the blow, tying the gag securely before snagging Xander’s wrist again. Instead of pinning it, he ran his hand over the exposed skin where the sleeve had been, his fingers lingering on the human warmth.

“You know,” he said thoughtfully. “I should just rip your arm off and bring it to Spike as proof you’ve changed hands.” Xander tried to jerk away, but Angelus had an implacable grip on his wrist. He continued running his other hand up and down the length of Xander’s arm almost sensuously. “But he might not know your arm well enough yet to recognize it. Hmmm, what to do?” 

Xander knew Angelus was just messing with him, trying to scare him and it was working. Big time. He didn’t like Angelus touching him at all but add in the creepy, inspecting the merchandise aspect and Xander’s wig-o-meter was off the charts. He couldn’t help the shiver that ran through him and hated the vampire’s little chuckle as he felt the shiver, glaring impotently at the vampire, his eyes filled with hate. 

Angelus backhanded him again for no apparent reason, lashing out with a casual strength that terrified Xander. His head rocked with the blow and pain exploded across his cheekbone. The vampire was suddenly on top of him, pressing him down into the mattress and Xander struggled wildly, trying to shift the literal dead weight off himself. 

Angelus grabbed his hair with both hands and his weight shifted for a moment only to settle back again a second later as Angelus succeeded in securing both of Xander’s arms under his legs, his knees digging into the muscles painfully. It only took a moment for Xander to stop struggling, knowing he didn’t have the strength to fight the vampire off. 

“Maybe I’ll just turn you,” Angelus purred, “save Spike the trouble.”

Xander screamed behind the gag, bucking and twisting uselessly, hearing Angelus’ little giggling laugh, the laugh of a sociopath having fun. A tongue licked a trail along his throat, Angelus’ iron grip in his hair preventing him from flinching away. 

Fire burned in his neck as Angelus bit down, sinking his fangs in and beginning to feed. Xander closed his eyes, praying that Angelus would just kill him and not turn him into a vampire. He couldn’t help the little whimpering noises he made as he felt the blood being drawn out of him. 

To his astonishment, Angelus stopped feeding after only a few seconds. The exquisite pain of the fangs being withdrawn from his neck hurt almost as much as when they’d entered but he cherished the feeling as relief swept over him. Angelus sat up, blood staining his lips, grinning through demonic features at Xander who could only stare stupidly back at him. The vampire reached out a hand and rubbed his thumb along the bite mark. “You’ll carry my mark now,” he said triumphantly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike pointedly settled into a windowless corner of the abandoned building Angelus had selected and pulled out his pack of cigarettes ignoring his Sire as he lit up and tried to figure out a way to escape the trap he was caught in before the jaws snapped shut completely. He refused to accept that the trap was well and truly triggered already. All he needed was a little leverage of his own.

Waiting out the day in this smelly hole would give him time to think about where Angelus would have stashed Xander. He ignored Angelus as his Sire came to stand directly in front of him, boots planted firmly on the concrete floor. 

“Spike, you were never known for your ability to think. Don’t try and start now.”

When he didn’t respond, Angelus laughed and flung himself down on the floor next to Spike. “Going to be a long day, Childe. Shall we talk about my plans for your boy?” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Angelus left shortly after biting him. He’d simply warned Xander not to move or he’d snap his neck, gotten up, picked up a length of chain already secured to the wall and snapped a manacle around Xander’s ankle. Xander had just lain there and let him do it, too frightened to consider resisting. Angelus had removed the gag, tucking it into his pocket, patted Xander on the cheek patronizingly, run his finger over the bite mark again, and left, promising to be back shortly for more games. Bastard had taken the lantern with him, plunging the room into darkness as the door swung shut behind him.

Left alone in the dark room, Xander had fallen asleep. Looking back on it later, he couldn’t believe he’d done that. Despite the danger of his situation, he hadn’t woken up for hours if he was right in his guess that it was still early in the evening when Angelus had brought him here. When he finally woke, the room was dimly lit by sunlight leaking through the boarded up windows and he was keenly aware he needed to get the hell out of Dodge.

He looked around the room, seeing it for the first time when there wasn’t a psychotic vampire holding all his attention, not liking the implications of what he was seeing. He was in what was clearly a studio apartment, long empty. The two small windows had been boarded up but just enough light slipped through the narrow cracks between the boards for him to see his surroundings. There was a small kitchen nook in one corner with a scarred countertop and a few cabinets. It contained an old refrigerator with the rounded corners that reminded Xander of his grandmother’s ancient refrigerator but no stove. Old burns on the narrow countertop indicated there had probably once been some sort of portable burner on the counter. In the opposite corner, was a closet sized room barely large enough to hold a toilet. A freestanding sink outside the tiny kitchen served both bathroom and kitchen. Other than the bed, there wasn’t any furniture, just bare walls with peeling paint and lime green wall-to-wall carpet that smelled strongly of mold and cat pee. 

The room had clearly been set up for long term captivity. Why else provide a bathroom and secure him with an ankle restraint that allowed him to move around a bit? 

Continuing to investigate his surroundings, Xander checked the chain Angelus had secured him with. The chain was fastened to the wall by a large U-bolt. Tugging produced no reaction and it looked like the thing was sunk deeply into a support beam. With his luck, the whole damn building could probably fall down and he’d still be chained to the last post standing.

He tried the boarded up windows next. They weren’t a jury rigged job: the boards met tightly and were clearly designed not only to keep him in but to keep sunlight out of the room. Which probably meant that vampires intended to enter during daylight hours. And he was not loving the idea of being an amusement for bored vamps. He could tell that it was daylight outside now from the thin slivers of light shining through the narrow gaps where a couple of the boards were slightly warped and didn’t meet exactly. The gaps were far too narrow to get a finger into but they did allow a few individual beams of sunlight in. Listening hard, he couldn’t hear anything through the windows; no voices, no music, not even any traffic noises. 

Testing the boards, he found they were solidly anchored and too close together to pry them apart, certainly not with his bare hands. Leaving them for now, Xander checked the door. Surprisingly, the handle turned, although the door didn’t budge. Looking at the lock more closely, Xander could see that duct tape kept the original, knob lock from working. Which made sense, it wouldn’t do for the prisoner to lock the guards out. The original chain lock had been cut off. Since the door wouldn’t move, some sort of lock had to have been fastened to the outside. The door opened inward which meant the hinges were on his side and Xander eyed them speculatively. He might be able to pry the hinge pins loose if he could find something like a screwdriver but they had been painted over and might not move easily. Sighing, he rested his ear against the door but heard nothing. That didn’t mean there wasn’t a guard; even if there was one immediately outside, he for damn sure wasn’t going to hear breathing from one of Angelus’ guards.

That left the bathroom. Without a lot of hope, he moved to the bathroom and saw that it held nothing but an old, stained toilet. 

First things first. He used the toilet to relieve his bladder, glad that at least one urgent need could be taken care of so easily, then zipped himself up and flushed, thankful when water responded. Moving awkwardly to the sink, despising Angelus with every step that sent the chain snaking behind him, constantly hitting his leg and rubbing his ankle, he tried the tap and was rewarded with protesting noises and a thin stream of brownish water. He washed his hands, then gingerly splashed water on his face. From the discoloration in the paint above the sink, at one point there had been a mirror mounted on the wall but it was gone now. Gingerly, he examined his injuries by touch, wincing as his exploring fingers found swelling on his jaw and hot tenderness along his cheekbone. One eye was swollen almost shut and his hair was clumped and sticky with what he assumed was dried blood. His head was throbbing from a mega-sized headache.

There wasn’t any fabric in the room except the clothes he was wearing. Looking down at his ruined shirt, Xander shrugged out of it and tore the remaining sleeve off. Using the fabric as a washcloth, he attempted to clean the worst of the stickiness out of his hair and gently patted the wet cloth along the damaged side of his face. 

Finished, he draped the torn sleeve over the edge of the sink and put the now sleeveless shirt back on. It wasn’t much but it was better than exposing that much skin to vampires. With nothing better to do, he shuffle-clanked the few steps to the bed. The mattress sighed underneath him as he sat and he sighed back at it. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If Angelus kept this up, Spike was going to lose it completely and kill his Sire, taking his chances on finding Xander. Angelus’ ideas for passing the time until sunset consisted of taunting Spike about his ability to run a Court, Angelus’ fond reminisces of his sexual exploits with Drusilla both before and after Spike was turned, and Xander: Angelus’ plans for him and what he’d done with the boy when he’d had Xander at his mercy last night. 

The only thing that kept Spike from snapping was the fact that, not only did Angelus change his story every few minutes but there simply hadn’t been time to do everything he claimed to have done, especially since he’d spent part of the night killing the Watcher’s girlfriend and arranging the romantic stage setting for the Watcher to find her body in. If it hadn’t been for the fragment of Xander’s shirt, Spike might almost have believed that Angelus didn’t have the boy. 

Eyes on the far wall, trying to block out his Sire’s voice, Spike sat silently as Angelus once again took up the topic of the gypsy witch he’d killed last night and how much he’d enjoyed decorating the Watcher’s place with her body. As his Sire rambled on gleefully, Spike spent his time smoking and thinking hard.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After sitting there for what felt like a long time, nothing had improved or even changed in his situation. Xander had contemplated screaming for help out the windows but abandoned the idea almost immediately because he didn’t think it would accomplish anything except possibly bringing the guards he assumed were outside the door down on him. Nobody had responded to his earlier yells while Angelus was here and he doubted anyone would now.

He caught the sunbeams in his hand, the slanting rays reminding him of the summer days when he and Jesse had used a magnifying glass to burn holes in the plastic soldiers they had once collected. When they had outgrown actually playing with the soldiers, they’d gone through a phase where they would try and outdo each other in “wounding” the plastic soldiers by burning holes all the way through them or amputating limbs by precisely-aimed, deadly sunlight. He found himself wondering - if he could hold a vampire in one of the tiny patches of light, would the sun eventually drill through the vampire or just set it on fire? 

Which simply brought him back to the thought that night was coming and with it, generic vampires at best but most likely Angelus. Watching the dust motes play in the sunbeams while his mind drifted wasn’t getting him anywhere. He really needed to get out of here because he was so not wanting to see Angelus again. At least not without a lot of weapons and backup. 

Looking around at the room, Xander considered whether there was anything he could use for a weapon or better yet, for escape. Kicking himself, he realized he hadn’t even checked the kitchen cabinets or refrigerator. Energized by the thought of finding something to use, or possibly even food, he shuffled to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. It was dark and silent and empty. Sighing, he checked the cupboard doors and they were also empty. A thought occurred to him and he opened the refrigerator again, this time checking the small door to the freezer compartment. The thin piece of metal swung open easily and could probably be removed but without a screwdriver he could only try and tear it off which would undoubtedly create a lot of noise. Fingering it, he decided reluctantly that it was far too flimsy to be useful as a weapon. 

The sink was one piece, just a stained porcelain sink attached to the wall. Nothing he could use. The toilet on the other hand…. Xander crossed to the bathroom, hating the fact that he was perfecting a glide-shuffle walk that worked with the chain, and considered the toilet. A standard-issue home model, it held possibilities that an industrial model wouldn’t have.

Lifting the tank lid off the back, he considered the pieces inside. The metal rod on the flush mechanism was only about a half an inch wide. Xander put the lid back and sat down on the toilet seat to examine the shackle on his ankle. 

It was metal, heavy iron or steel, unpadded, and Xander winced as he rubbed his already sore ankle and thought about what his ankle would look like if he had to spend much time wearing the thing. Angelus had locked it with a big, old fashioned key. The whole get-up looked like something out of a movie - an old-fashioned manacle, huge, heavy and clumsy. Well, Angelus’ drama queen tendencies might just have given Xander the break he needed. Thanking god Angelus hadn’t used modern police-issue leg shackles which he would never have been able to get off, Xander stood and investigated the toilet tank again.

It was surprisingly easy to disassemble the flush mechanism, leaving Xander with a potential lock picking tool in the form of a short metal rod, flat on one end, and worry that he would be stuck here forever with a no longer working toilet. Holding his breath, he tried the rod in the massive, key shaped lock on the shackle. It fit. Heart pounding, Xander closed his eyes and felt for the lock workings. Long practice with multiple kinds of locks came in handy and it only took a short time to trigger the release and the shackle fell open. 

He barely managed to catch it before it hit the ground. Ok, step one down. Rubbing his freed ankle, Xander wondered if he should have figured out step two before going this far. Hopefully, if necessary, he’d have time to replace the shackle before anyone opened the door to his room. 

Moving to the boarded-up window, Xander tried unsuccessfully to slide the metal bar between the boards. He considered the ends of the boards but rejected the idea of digging into the plaster around them. Not only would it take a long time, it would leave an obvious mess that couldn’t be explained. Not to mention he had no idea of how high off the ground the window was anyway. It was a small but normal size window, not daylight basement size, so chances were he was above ground. 

That left the door. Examining the hinges again, Xander was elated to discover the pins moved easily after only a small amount of prying with his tool. He pulled the first pin all the way out, then knelt to work on the lower hinge, When that one began to slide out, he stopped and moved back to the bed, sinking down on the mattress and waiting for the trembling in his hands to stop. 

Opening the door from the hinge side and running like hell was pretty much his plan but he needed to think it through for a minute. It was daylight outside. Well, daylight unless they had a spot light trained on the window. That didn’t seem likely, so he was going with the daylight theory. That meant if he could get outside, he was safe. Hell, with luck, he’d be so safe he could stand three feet outside the door and yell insults back at the house. Not that he intended doing that. No, if he got outside the house and into the safety of the sun, he was still going to run like hell. That part of the plan was a definite. 

No, the question was: first, was there a guard outside the door and second, how many vampires were in the building and how was he going to get outside?

Ok, time for a plan. That’s what he needed. Just one little plan. Nothing to it. Realizing he was panicking, Xander shook his head sharply to stop his racing thoughts. Guard. What could he use against a guard?

There wasn’t any obvious wood lying around loose in the room. Surprise, surprise. Vampires probably loved modern metal furniture. Or old fashioned metal furniture like the iron bed frame, which Xander had been carefully avoiding looking at since his first sight of the fancy brass headboard when he’d thought that it was perfectly designed for tying someone up to it. 

Ok, panicking again. Weapon. He needed a weapon. 

A smile crossed his face as a thought occurred to him. He returned to the bathroom and lifted the tank lid again. The porcelain lid was heavy enough to carry a lot of impact and the rim on the underneath side gave him a good grip, meaning it could be swung hard like a club. He’d probably only get one shot because it would break upon impact but even broken it might leave him with at least one fragment large enough to still use. 

Carrying the lid, Xander returned to the bed and rested the edge of the tank lid on the mattress for a second. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on breathing deeply to calm himself down. Finally, as ready as he was ever going to be, he moved back to the door, bringing the lid with him.

He set the toilet lid down next to him where he could grab it quickly and silently eased the lower hinge pin the rest of the way out, laying it quietly down on the floor behind him. Hoping a guard would not be expecting anything from inside the room, Xander debated for a second whether to try and ease the door open or just yank on the hinges. Sure that either one was going to be noisy, he settled for a quick, steady pull on the upper hinge.

The hinge pulled free and the door sagged open. As soon as it cleared the sill, Xander wedged his hand in the opening and pulled hard. The door opened further with a squeal of wood rubbing against wood. It opened only partway, hanging cockeyed from the lock and Xander stepped back and kicked through the gap at the astonished vampire stupidly staring at him through the opening. 

His foot caught the guard square in the stomach and the vampire staggered backward a step. Xander grabbed the tank lid with one hand and squeezed through the opening before the vampire had time to recover. He was barely through, still trying to bring the lid up, when the guard pounced on him. Xander kicked him again, connecting with a knee this time but the vampire snarled and kept coming. Xander got the lid up in time to deflect a punch, using it as a shield, and the vampire’s fist hit the heavy porcelain, driving it back into Xander’s body and cracking the lid. Shoving forward with all his strength, Xander pushed the guard away from him just far enough to quickly raise the lid and bring it down hard on the vampire’s head.

The lid shattered at the impact and the vampire dropped to the floor. Xander was left holding two useless, fist-sized pieces. He threw them at the dazed vampire and ran. He was in a hallway with a number of doors opening off it, all closed, undoubtedly they led to other old apartments. Throwing a quick look behind him, Xander’s heart pounded as he saw the guard was back on his feet. Behind the guard, who was staggering and clutching his head, a second vampire appeared, and Xander cursed as he realized he’d gone in the opposite direction from the stairs. The hall in front of him dead ended, leaving only a tall window that someone had nailed a blanket over, covering the glass and blocking the sun. Xander aimed for the window, praying he wasn’t on an upper story.

He could hear the two vampires yelling behind him, they were so close that he expected them to grab him at any second. With no choice, Xander simply dove through the window, bringing his arms up to shield his head and praying the blanket would protect him from the glass. 

Pain exploded in his arm as he smashed through the window. He landed hard on a narrow section of roof and rolled, sliding helplessly across the asphalt shingles. He tried to grab on to the shingles to stop him and screamed as pain shot through his arm at the attempt. His flailing legs found no purchase, only air as he slid inexorably over the edge of the roof. For one second, he was able to snag the edge of the gutter with his good hand as he went over, but his full weight hit the end of his outstretched arm and he lost his grip, falling to the ground ten feet below. 

He landed hard on his back, the impact knocking the breath out of him, his head slamming into the dirt with enough force to leave him dazed. Winded, unable to breathe, Xander was still acutely aware that he wasn’t in the safety of sunlight yet. Ignoring the pain in every part of his body, blind fear gave him the strength to drag himself away from the building towards the slanting yellow rays lighting the ground only a few feet away. 

He collapsed into the warmth, cradling his injured arm and wanting nothing more than to stay there forever without moving. But sunset was coming and he knew that if he stopped, he’d still be lying there when the sun went down and the vampires he could hear raging inside the house would simply stroll outside and scoop him up. 

Heaving himself up with his good arm, he let out a choked scream and fell back again as fire streaked along his side. Clutching his side, Xander was afraid he had probably broken at least one rib. He had a vague idea that you weren’t supposed to move with broken ribs but that was for people with a choice. Inch by painful inch, he rolled onto his face and slowly pushed himself up with one hand, trying to avoid jostling both his arm and his side. He staggered to his feet, pain stabbing through him with each movement and headed blindly away from the building in the direction of the deserted street.

He needed to get to Spike and let him know that he’d escaped. Unfortunately, he needed to get to a hospital first or he wouldn’t make it to the factory. Not to mention, he seriously wanted to be somewhere with lots of people and lots of wooden stakes around when the sun set. Wherever he was now, he didn’t recognize it. The street was lined with old boarded up buildings and vacant, trash-strewn lots.

Staggering down the street, Xander looked for a phone, a passing car, or anyone with a pulse that he could ask for help.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander came awake screaming, trying to struggle despite the pain that seared through him with every movement. Voices were yelling at him and hands were pinning him down and he struggled blindly, terrified, not recognizing his surroundings.

“Calm down! You’re going to hurt yourself.” A single voice penetrated the bedlam surrounding him and he focused on it desperately, seeing an older Hispanic male in a white coat. “Calm down,” the man repeated. “You’re in a hospital.”

The confusion sorted itself out into nurses and orderlies and an examination room and Xander relaxed slightly. The man spoke again. “What’s your name, son?” 

“Xander,” he managed to say, but even that much brought a fit of coughing which sent pain slashing through his chest. Even breathing hurt but hands on his shoulders kept him from moving.

“Get his chest elevated,” a voice ordered.

“Xander, can you understand me?”

Xander nodded, not wanting to risk another coughing fit. He felt the surface beneath him shift, raising his upper body and it became a bit easier to breathe. Gradually, he became aware of something over his mouth and he tried to pull it away.

A hand grabbed his arm, stopping him. “Xander, I need you to leave that alone. It’s oxygen, you’re having trouble breathing. Just relax and let us examine you.”

He nodded and hands were everywhere, cutting his shirt off, poking, prodding, hurting. He tried feebly to protest but they didn’t listen to him. There was something important he needed to do but he couldn’t remember what. He felt the prick of a needle in his arm and closed his eyes, shutting out the room as he struggled to remember. The voices and the hands retreated and Xander relaxed. Whatever it was that was so important would come to him in a moment. 

Skilled hands that tried to be gentle worked on his multiple injuries as he slipped back into unconsciousness. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Angelus’ new place was a mansion on the outskirts of town. Spike followed Angelus silently, hands thrust deep into the pockets of his duster, longingly fingering a stake. He spent the walk planning new and inventive ways to torture Angelus as soon as Xander was free. 

Spike rolled his eyes in disgust as they arrived at the mansion. A less vampire-friendly home was hard to imagine: the enormous windows alone were sure to create problems, never mind its location in a fancy suburb undoubtedly full of bored housewives with nothing to do but spy on the neighbors. 

Opening the doors, Angelus proudly showed off the mansion like a bloody real estate agent, leading Spike through the high ceilinged ground floor rooms and out into an enclosed courtyard complete with a fountain. Practically rhapsodizing over the garden, actually pointing out the flowers, Angelus finally stopped and leaned against the fountain, idly flicking his fingers in the water. “The factory had no style, Spike. Just modern industrial wasteland, not worthy of the Master of the Hellmouth. This will be a lot more comfortable and give the Court some class.”

“It's paradise,” Spike agreed sarcastically. “Big windows, lovely gardens. It'll be perfect when we want the sunlight to kill us.”

“Spike, my boy, don’t take such a negative attitude. I don’t want my Court to have to squat in that dank warehouse.”

Spike’s jaw tightened rebelliously as Angelus casually claimed the Court. “Not really an issue now, given that you succeeded in burning the place down,” was all he said. “Where’s Xander?” he asked pointedly.

“Will you stop whining about that brat? All in good time.” Angelus strode back inside the mansion, his boots echoing on the stone floors, yelling for minions to attend him. Spike was furious at the confirmation that Angelus had been turning fledges behind his back but again was forced to swallow his anger. Angelus was going to pay for every insult and humiliation, he vowed silently even as he followed the older vampire inside. He studied the building, spare and pretentious, looking for anything he could use against his Sire. 

A yell of outraged fury snapped his attention back to Angelus, just in time to see Angelus backhand a minion, sending the fledge reeling backwards into the wall. Spike moved forward avidly, anything that upset Angelus had potential. The fledge was whimpering for mercy, repeatedly saying that “it wasn’t his fault” but before Spike could learn what the problem was, Angelus had staked the fledgling and Spike’s answers exploded into a cloud of dust.

“Trouble with the help?” he asked Angelus maliciously.

Angelus straightened up and shot a glare at Spike. “Nothing I can’t handle,” he said shortly, obviously attempting to gloss the situation over. He stalked off, yelling bad temperedly for the cowering minions to follow him. Spike was tempted to follow but decided to take a quick look through the mansion on the off chance Angelus had been cocky enough to stash Xander here.

Running swiftly down the stairs, Spike found himself in a small basement, fitted out with what was obviously Angelus’s bedroom. He listened intently but heard no trace of a familiar heartbeat, nor could he catch any hint of Xander’s scent. Cursing, disappointed despite knowing it had been an unlikely hope, Spike spun around and ran back up the stairs. He found a flight leading upwards and headed for the second story. Dungeons were more typical housing for captives but Angelus’ chosen lair had more in common with suburbia than a traditional castle, despite the enormous rooms on the main floor. He moved quickly from room to room, listening, smelling, searching, but found no trace that Xander had ever been at the mansion.

Spike fought back the surge of renewed worry. He hadn’t really expected to find the boy here but he’d had to look. He walked back down the stairs to the main floor not really caring anymore if his Sire had noticed his absence. 

Angelus was still huddled with his minions and Spike watched as several were dispatched outside. Something was up and Angelus was furious about it but he was being careful to speak so quietly that Spike couldn’t hear what he was saying. Whatever it was, Angelus clearly didn’t want Spike to know about it. Which meant is was probably something he could use against his Sire. 

He wondered if he dared hope that it had something to do with Xander. In any case, with minions being sent running on errands, it looked like submission before Angelus’ so-called Court was going to be delayed. Which gave Spike some room for maneuvering.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander woke slowly, drifting gradually to the surface. For a long time, he simply lay there, too disconnected from reality to have any curiosity about his surroundings. Opening his eyes, his vision was only half what it should be but it didn’t trouble him. Looking around incuriously with his good eye, he registered a bed, machines, and a curtain pulled around the bed. Closing his eye again, he dismissed the objects as meaningless, content to simply lie there without thinking. 

“Xander?”

He didn’t recognize the quiet voice at first. Opening his eyes again, he saw Oz’s face peeking through the curtain. He opened his mouth but no sound came out.

“What happened?” Oz opened the curtain slightly, slipping through the gap and approaching the bed, his eyes taking in the bandages, the machines, and the cast. “I was picking up Devon at the ER when I caught your scent.”

For a long moment, Xander couldn’t think what Oz was talking about, then with startling suddenness reality returned from its vacation and Xander gasped out loud at the shock of returning memory. Oz waited, watching him with worried eyes. “Do you need me to get a nurse?”

Xander shook his head. “Angel,” he whispered. “Help.”

Oz seemed to follow that. “What do you need?”

“Spike.” Oz looked puzzled and Xander tried again. “Tell Spike… Angel.” His mouth felt like it was filled with cotton and his voice rasped in his throat but he had to get this out. “Need to warn Spike. At the factory.”

Comprehension flared in Oz’s eyes along with something else Xander didn’t understand, then Oz was shaking his head. “Xander, the factory burned down last night.”

“What?!” Xander sat bolt upright, then doubled over as pain returned with a vengeance. After a long minute, he eased himself back against the pillow, his face white. “How? What happened?” Oz remained silent and Xander could practically hear him editing what he was going to say. “Everything,” he demanded, his voice still little more than a hoarse whisper.

“Angel killed Ms. Calendar and Giles went after him.” Xander stared at him in mute shock and Oz went on quietly. “The factory got burned in the fight. Buffy got Giles out before Angel killed him.” 

Xander couldn’t have spoken if his life depended on it and after a short silence, Oz just shrugged slightly. “Factory burned to the ground. We don’t know yet if Angel made it out.”

Xander found himself panting in quick, shallow breaths at the shock of hearing all that. Closing his eyes, he lay back, his good hand clinging to a fistful of cotton blanket as he struggled to anchor himself in a reality that had just shifted so disastrously. Spike’s home had burned down and Spike might have been caught in the fire. Ms. Calendar was dead. It couldn’t be true. All he could hear was a roaring in his ears, drowning out the small alarm that went off as his heart rate shot up and the monitor reacted. 

He wasn’t even aware of nurses hurrying into the room and evicting Oz. Guilt flooded him at the realization that he had caused this by telling Giles about Angelus being at the factory. Spike could be dead and Giles was probably hurt and it was all his fault. His agitated thoughts whirled uncontrollably even as he fought for calm, to think, to figure out where Spike would have gone and if he needed help. 

He didn’t see the injection that sent his thoughts scattering as darkness swamped him, nor the satisfied smile from the nurse as his skyrocketing heart rhythm slowed as the sedative took effect. She gave him a gentle pat, straightening his blanket and adjusting the call button so it was more conveniently within his reach before leaving the room. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike was fed up with Angelus’ delaying tactics and beginning to have a sliver of hope that the reason his Sire wasn’t making Spike kneel before him was because Angelus had somehow lost control of the situation. He only hoped it didn’t mean that the now-dusted minion had killed the hostage. The fact that Angelus had sent every one of his handful of minions out on “errands” said no. The longer Angelus blustered about “setting things up properly”, the more Spike was convinced Xander had either escaped or somehow been rescued by someone else. While he hated the idea of not having been the one to rescue his boy himself, Spike wasn’t about to complain about the results.

“Right, ‘nuff of this hanging about. I want to see my boy now or I’m going to start assuming you don’t have him.”

“Sure you want to take that risk?” Angelus growled, stopping his incessant pacing to glare at Spike. 

“Beginning to, mate. You don’t look like someone who knows his arse from a hole in the wall right now, much less whose got the treasure.” Spike could feel it, Angelus had lost Xander, his Sire’s frustrated anger was escaping his tight control and Spike just knew.  
“Ponce,” he said contemptuously. “I’m finding myself something to eat. My boy better be here when I get back or I’ll burn your bloody house down around your ears.” 

Spike spun with a contemptuous swirl of leather and stalked out of the mansion. He did need to feed but he had no intention of going back. No, he was going to find his boy, even if he had to recruit help to do it. Angelus’ minions were searching for Xander, he was sure of it. He had to find Xander before they did.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cool fingers stroked along his forehead. “Xander, wake up, luv.” 

Xander moaned in protest at being woken and snuggled into the touch. A familiar voice chuckled in his ear. “Lazy git. Open your eyes so I know you’re all right.”

Xander reluctantly opened his eyes and found a pair of intense blue eyes smiling down at him. Spike was stretched out beside him in the narrow hospital bed, precariously balanced as Xander’s lanky form took up most of the room. “Hey,” he said, smiling sleepily back at Spike.

“How’re you feeling, pet? Gave me a bit of a scare.”

“Better, now that you’re here.” Xander slung an arm around Spike’s waist and buried his face in Spike’s hip. “Worried about you.”

“Not the one in hospital, luv.” Despite the tart words, Spike’s voice was full of quiet affection. “Let’s get a bit more light in here so’s I can see you proper,” he suggested. 

Xander protested sleepily as Spike got off the bed, turning to watch the vampire move to the window. Spike opened the drapes and Xander shot upright, screaming “No!” as sunlight streamed in through the opened drapes, turning Spike into a pillar of flames that lasted barely a second before he vanished into ash.

“Sorry, I’ll close them again.”

Sitting bolt upright, shaking, hearing the echo of his agonized scream in his head, Xander struggled to throw off the aftermath of the dream. Dazed, he watched a young girl in a volunteer’s uniform quickly close the drapes again then move to his bedside. “Would you like some breakfast?” she asked, reaching behind him to fluff his pillows. 

“Not right now,” was all he could manage, his heart still pounding from the shock.

“I’ll just leave it at the foot of your bed in case you want it a little later,” she said and brought a tray in, setting it down on the portable table before whisking out again. Xander lay back on his pillow and tried to get the vision of Spike burning out of his mind. His dreams had been haunted by the images of fire and he was exhausted, but greater than his fatigue was his need for information. 

He needed to know what had happened at the factory and whether Spike had been there. Two nights ago, Oz had said. Xander wasn’t sure what day it was now but he was pretty sure Oz had meant the same night that Angelus had grabbed him. Angelus had been planning on using Xander against Spike. If Angelus had also killed Miss Calendar that same night, maybe Spike hadn’t been at the factory when Giles went there. 

There was no way Spike was really dead. He was way too smart to get caught in the crossfire between Angelus and Giles. No way.

Xander pressed the call button. He really needed a phone. Somebody had to know what had happened. Giles might not be at the library yet, but Willow had always been an early riser.


	24. Chapter 24

“Xander!” Willow’s worried tone carried clearly over the phone. “Are you all right? Oz told me you were in the hospital but visiting hours were over and they wouldn’t let me call your room either. I was coming over this morning to see you. Are you still in the hospital? What happened?”

Xander spoke quickly at the first pause in the flood of words. “Long story. Willow, what happened at the factory?”

“The factory? Xander, that’s not…”

Xander interrupted before she could gather steam. “Willow, it’s important, I really need to know. Please.” 

“Well,” it was obvious she didn’t want to talk about it. When she spoke again, her voice was unsteady. “Angel killed Ms. Calendar.” She stopped and Xander could hear her fighting back tears. “He put her body in Giles’ bed for him to find.” Xander winced at that image. Poor Giles. He knew first hand that Angelus was sadistic, but jeez, what an awful thing to do to someone. Angelus so needed staking.

“Anyway, Giles went to the factory to kill Angel. He didn’t tell anyone he was going, just loaded up a bunch of weapons and left. We figured out that he’d gone after Angel and Buffy followed him. She said he started a fire in the factory during the fight and she found Angelus just about to kill him. She saved Giles and got him out of there before the place burned down.”

“Did Buffy say if Spike was at the factory?” Xander asked urgently.

“Spike? She didn’t mention it. But Xander, why are you in the hospital? Are you ok? What happened?”

“Angel happened. Willow, can you call Buffy and find out if Spike was at the factory? I need to know if he’s ok.” A thought struck him suddenly. “Did Angel make it out of the factory?” Angel had grabbed him just after sunset. If he’d killed Ms. Calendar that same night, it had to have been after he left Xander at the abandoned apartment building. Maybe Angel was dead. A guy could hope, couldn’t he.

“We don’t know yet if Angel’s still alive. The factory burned to the ground and Buffy didn’t find Angel on patrol last night.”

“Can you call her and find out about Spike?” Xander asked again.

“I guess, but Xander…” 

“Please, Willow. Can you call her right now and then call me back?”

“All right, what’s the number?”

Xander read the number on the phone to her and hung up, lying back in the bed and cradling the phone, ready to pick it up instantly when it rang. He looked out the windows at the bright sunny day. The nurse who’d brought him the phone had opened the curtains for him. They wouldn’t tell him when he could leave until after he’d seen the doctor on his rounds later this morning. Until then, it was reassuring to see daylight through the broad windows; the closed curtains had reminded him too much of the boarded up windows in the apartment. 

Spike would be holed up somewhere until sunset so Xander had all day to figure out how to find him. He was simply not listening to the nagging little voice that kept saying that Spike could be dead.

The phone rang under his hand, startling him, and he snatched it up. “Willow?”

“Buffy said Spike was there. He stopped her from killing Angel. She doesn’t know for sure if either of them made it out of the fire.”

The phone slipped from nerveless fingers as Xander closed his eyes against the images Willow’s words brought: Spike trapped, burning, Angelus laughing as Spike pleaded for help. Ok, that would never happen: the pleading, not the laughing. Angelus would totally laugh in that situation. Gradually, he became aware of distant shouting through the phone and numbly put the receiver back to his ear.

“Xander! Talk to me! Xander!” Willow sounded frantic and Xander mustered words from somewhere.

“Willow?”

“You scared me to death, Mister. Don’t do that.” He didn’t have any idea what she was talking about. He’d scared her? What conversation was she having?

“We’re coming over. We’ll be there in half an hour. Don’t go anywhere.” The phone went dead as she hung up.

Xander hung up slowly. He resisted the sudden, savage urge to throw the phone against the wall. If he did, they’d never let him have a phone again and he might need one. Nothing had changed. Buffy didn’t know anything one way or the other. If Spike had stopped Buffy from killing Angelus, it had been for a good reason. Probably because Spike wanted to do it himself. Spike was like that. 

Xander felt himself calming down as a reminiscent smile curved his lips. Spike was big on doing things himself. He wouldn’t like it if Buffy killed Angelus.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A short time later, his room filled with visitors. Willow entered first, her eyes worried, Buffy and Oz close behind her. Mr. Giles followed them. The librarian was uncharacteristically quiet, his eyes haunted with sorrow and anger in equal measure.

After the first round of sympathetic exclamations, Xander had briefly explained his injuries: concussion, two cracked ribs and a broken arm. There was something wrong with his lungs that he didn’t really understand: depressed breathing or something like that. They’d put him on oxygen a couple of times when they didn’t like what one of the monitors said and it was apparently the main reason they weren’t willing to let him go yet.

He gave them a brief outline of what had happened: Angelus trying to pretend he was Angel again. He left out what Angelus had said about knowing Ms. Calendar was a gypsy. It was too late to matter now and he hadn’t decided if he should tell Giles about it. He wasn’t sure if it would make it better or worse to know that she hadn’t been killed randomly but because she was a gypsy. Xander didn’t actually know that for sure but it was a likely guess. He just skipped ahead to Angelus knocking him out and waking up to find himself a prisoner, then escaping, glossing over what had happened with Angelus in the apartment. He didn’t want to dwell on the details, they were too fresh in his own mind and the creepiness of that short time with Angelus in the apartment was something he so did not want to relive or describe.

“How did you escape?” Buffy asked. She had been unusually quiet, seeming tired and drawn. Xander just hoped it was sadness over Ms. Calendar’s death and not because she thought her ex-boyfriend was dead. Given that she still hadn’t been speaking to Ms. Calendar, the last that Xander knew, he was afraid it might be Angel she was upset over. If so, he really didn’t want to know. He needed their help and screaming at Buffy was probably not the way to get it.

“I picked the lock on the chain.” Xander answered shortly. He knew that he would have to answer their questions first but, to him, this was already seriously old news and he wanted to move on to the finding Spike part of the conversation.

“You know how to pick locks?” Mr. Giles asked, surprised. 

“Well, duh.” He didn’t mean to be rude but it was a dumb question. “How do you think I was able to read your books last year? It’s not like you weren’t locking your office or the book cage.” Xander couldn’t help grinning at the librarian who made a small, tutting noise at the reminder of how Xander had pilfered his books.

Willow laughed suddenly. It was so unexpected and out of place that they all turned to stare at her. She smiled at Xander, “Boy Scouts!” she exclaimed out of nowhere.

Xander grinned back at her. “Yep. Good ol’ Psycho Steve.”

“I remember. I remember how much fun you and…”, she hesitated but continued after a barely perceptible pause, “and Jesse had practicing lock-picking.”

“Told you it would come in handy one day.”

“Yes, as illuminating as this is, we need to concentrate on the situation at hand.” Giles looked apologetic but determined. “Xander, can you tell us anything about the building Angelus took you to?”

“Not much. It was an old apartment building. I didn’t even recognize the part of town it was in.” He shrugged, “I don’t remember much after I left the building. I was trying to find a phone to call for help, then I woke up here. They told me someone found me lying in the road and called 911.”

“Could you tell if Angelus was living there?”

Xander shook his head. “I don’t think so. The place felt empty. I only saw the two vampires but it wasn’t like I was stopping to check. I’m sure that Angelus spent the day somewhere else.” Again, he didn’t elaborate. The memory of what had happened with Angelus sent shivers up his spine whenever he thought of it. “Listen, you guys, I need to know what’s been happening. Willow said the factory burned down?”

Oz had been standing in the back, listening but not saying anything. Now, he spoke for the first time, his head cocked to one side curiously. “Xander, don’t you remember talking to me about the factory last night?”

Xander shook his head. “Just that you said that it had burned down. I don’t remember much else about the conversation,” he admitted.

Oz just nodded like it wasn’t a big deal and filled him in. “Devon was in a car accident yesterday. He asked me to come pick him up and I found you.” He shrugged apologetically. “The nurse threw me out of your room and wouldn’t let me back in. Sorry, didn’t mean to upset you.”

Xander just shook his head again, he had only a vague memory of what had happened after Oz told him the factory had burned down. He’d had a lot of terrifying dreams, mostly involving Spike and fire, but thankfully they were fading rapidly now that he was awake and talking to people.

Buffy suddenly reached towards the neck of his hospital gown. He flinched back instinctively and then was embarrassed by the reaction even as she dropped her hand without touching him. “Why is your neck bandaged?” she asked harshly.

Xander’s good hand flew up, his fingers tentatively exploring the outline of the bandage over the wounds left by Angelus’ teeth. He hadn’t realized there was a bandage there. Of all his injuries, that was the most minor, physically anyway. He hated the idea of having Angelus’ bite mark on him and fervently hoped it would disappear soon. “Angelus bit me,” he said reluctantly.

“What?!” The near-shout came from everyone but Oz and Buffy and Willow tensed and stepped back from the bed.

“Hey, sunlight, heart moniter.” Xander pointed to them in turn. “Jeez, people, overreact much? He bit me in the cheesy, want-to-suck-your-blood way, nothing more.” Cheesy, not scary. Yep, if he kept telling himself that, he should be able to start believing it any time now. 

“Does anyone know if Spike made it out of the factory?” he asked urgently, finally getting the chance to direct the conversation to where he wanted it. “Buffy?”

“I don’t know. He stopped me from killing Angel.” She sighed, her voice softening slightly. “He grabbed my arm and told me to take care of Giles. I got Giles out, so there was probably time for Angel and Spike to get out. I haven’t seen either one of them since.”

“That was the night before last?” Xander was still a little fuzzy on the time frame. Buffy nodded. Ok, last night he’d been in the hospital, so that meant the fire was the same night Angelus had grabbed him. “Would you guys help me find Spike?”

“I’ve got better things to do than help you find your pet vampire,” Buffy said flatly.

“Your ‘better things to do’ got us into this mess in the first place,” Xander snapped back. He regretted it the second the words left his mouth. Not because it wasn’t true but it wasn’t going to persuade her to help him. 

“Look,” he began in a more conciliatory tone, “Angelus was trying to use me against Spike. If Spike thinks Angelus is still holding me, Angelus has a chance of succeeding in whatever he’s planning. If you’d bothered to listen to any of the research we did on your ex, you’d know that Angelus’ plans are not good for anyone.” Ok, so conciliatory hadn’t lasted long but Buffy really annoyed him.

“Xander has a point,” Oz said quietly. 

“Yes, he does,” Giles agreed. He looked at Xander thoughtfully. “From what I understand of what happened, Spike honored the truce. He only intervened in the fight to stop Buffy, and made no attempt to harm her.” He pinned Buffy with a stern look. “It would appear that Spike does not pose a significant threat at this time. However, we cannot allow Angelus to gain Spike as even a reluctant ally. The best course of action would appear to be to let Spike know that Xander is alive.” He smiled with cold satisfaction. For a man wearing glasses and tweed, Giles suddenly looked incredibly dangerous, Xander thought uneasily. “Angel may well find out he has made a serious mistake in angering Spike.”

Xander was outvoted four to one in his request for them to check him out of the hospital so he could help. The others agreed to look for Spike as soon as the sun went down. Glancing despairingly out the window at the sun still high in the sky, Xander tried to think if there was anything he could do before then. Frustratingly, he didn’t have any idea where to tell them to start looking. As far as Xander knew, Spike hadn’t had a backup place to stay. Leaving a note on Xander’s window might well attract Angelus instead of Spike. 

He watched as the others filed out, heading for school, then called after them. “Giles, can you stay for just one second?” 

“Certainly.” Mr. Giles stepped back into the room and looked inquiringly at Xander. “What can I do for you?”

“I just wanted to say I’m really sorry about Ms. Calendar. I liked her. She was a really nice lady and a good teacher.”

Giles turned away for a moment, staring blindly out the window. “Thank you, Xander, that describes her very accurately. It’s kind of you. I shall miss her very much.” He sighed and brought his gaze back from the horizon, nodding briefly at Xander before stepping out of the room again. Watching him go, Xander wished he could have found something comforting to say. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike waited, anything but patiently, in the tunnels beneath the school library. Resentment, anger, worry, all churned inside him. Angelus was going to pay and pay dearly for every insult, slur and humiliation, and most especially, he was going to pay for touching what was Spike’s. But until he found Xander, Spike couldn’t act, and it was driving him ‘round the bend.

Leaving Angelus’ mansion, Spike had checked Xander’s home and the hospital without success. Then he’d scoured the town. While in the mansion, he’d made note of every one of the minions there. Finding several in the course of his sweeps through the town, he’d staked them immediately, all but the first one. The first one he’d found, he’d kept alive until he had explained what they were searching for. It had only taken a gratifyingly short time to get the minion to spill everything he knew, or even guessed, about the tall, dark-haired teenager Angelus had sent them out to find. He was still talking when Spike staked him, having learned everything useful the minion knew.

With the others, Spike hadn’t even taken the time to play with them properly, simply dusting them cleanly the second he’d located them. There was nothing more they could tell him that he was interested in, since they obviously didn’t have the once piece of information he wanted: Xander’s location. They’d been scattered across town, searching for Xander, making them easy targets. Spike’s pride in his boy’s resourcefulness at getting away from Angelus was overtaken by fear as the hours passed without any sign of Xander.

At dawn, he’d been forced to take refuge in the tunnel systems. He didn’t think Xander would be in the tunnels; humans were strange about underground places, they didn’t like them, and most would rather go up than down when hiding. 

Having checked the main tunnels, the ones some humans were aware of, without finding any trace of Xander’s scent, Spike had made his way along the branching tunnels to the sections that accessed the school library. It was still early, the school grounds were quiet. Spike waited below the library, keeping an ear out for the Watcher to come to work. He hoped the Watcher would be willing to listen to him before attacking. Given Angelus’ antics in the last few days, the little group of do-gooders had to be ready to ally with the devil himself against Spike’s Sire.

Wasn’t that bloody human ever going to show up for work?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike was tired of pacing fruitlessly and seriously considering complaining to the man’s employer by the time the Watcher finally showed - well, more like slaughtering the entire Watchers Council to express his disapproval but something along those lines. Alerted by the sound of doors being unlocked and the low murmur of voices, Spike lifted his head and listened intently. Not voices, one voice, the Watcher, muttering quietly to himself as he settled in for the day. 

Spike was up through the tunnels in a flash, entering the library in the back and striding forward through the stacks towards the low murmur of the Watcher’s voice.

He found the Watcher in his office, pulling books off the shelves. Hearing Spike’s approaching footsteps, he looked up and promptly dropped the books, fumbling to catch them instinctively, then letting them go, as he reached instead for a weapon on the shelf.

“Watcher,” Spike greeted him with a nod. “Flag on the play, mate. Not here to fight.”

The Watcher straightened, turning to face Spike with a small crossbow in his hands, but he kept it lowered and pointed slightly away from Spike. “Spike?” he asked cautiously.

“In the unliving flesh. Need your help, your’s and your Slayer’s. Angelus took my boy. Think Xander’s escaped and I need your help finding him before Angelus does.”

The Watcher studied him intently for a good long time, then surprised Spike by setting the crossbow down. Down but within easy reach, Spike noted.

“We’d heard. Xander is at the hospital. I’ve just come from there. He did indeed escape but he was injured.”

Spike was torn between heading to the hospital immediately and waiting to see if there was more. He suppressed his desire to vent both his relief and his fury that Xander was injured, a display of temper would not induce the Watcher to continue to cooperate. “How badly?” he growled, not even aware that his eyes had shifted to a malevolent yellow.

“Nothing he won’t recover from fully. They were keeping him until tomorrow as a precaution, I believe.”

Spike was so filled with trapped energy needing to go somewhere, do something, that he was unable to keep still. He began pacing in short jerky steps back and forth in front of the Watcher’s office. He wasn’t even aware of the Watcher studying him, his expression softening.

“He’s just as worried about you.”

“What?” Spike’s head snapped up and he stared at the Watcher.

The Watcher smiled a little. “He called us there this morning to tell us what happened and ask us to look for you. He was afraid you might have been caught in the fire.” 

For a long moment, Spike stared at the Watcher, seeing the sorrow, guilt, and banked rage in his eyes. He gave a short, sharp nod, acknowledging the leashed predator inside the human. “Think we might have found some common ground, eh, Watcher?”

“I think we do indeed have a common enemy, Spike.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike had left without another word. Time enough after he’d seen that Xander was all right to hammer out the terms of his agreement with the Watcher. And now he was cursing himself for being all kinds of an idiot for not staying at least long enough to call Xander and talk to him. 

It hadn’t taken long to reach the hospital through the tunnels, but Xander was housed on the third floor and there were too many open hallways with large sunny windows between him and his boy. Giving up after several tries, Spike cursed the architect who seemed to have designed the wing Xander was in specifically to prevent vampires from visiting during the day. He considered going back to the library and using the Watcher’s phone but he wanted to see his boy, smell him, touch him, not talk to him over the phone. 

Helping himself to several packs of blood stored in a basement refrigerator, Spike settled down impatiently to wait for sunset. He tore open the bagged blood and drank, making a disgusted face as he did so. He needed the blood and he didn’t want to create a ruckus at the hospital while Xander was a patient but bugger it all the stuff was disgusting cold. Maybe he could find a microwave somewhere.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The hours had crawled by for Xander. He’d talked on the phone to Willow, Oz and Giles and been brought up to date on the news. Giles told him that Spike was alive and was heading to the hospital to visit Xander, but he hadn’t arrived yet. Oz had filled him in on his own visit to the hospital, telling him the story of how Devon had been so stoned he’d driven off the road. Apparently, the whole way home from the hospital after having his broken leg set, Devon had insisted to Oz that the tree had jumped in front of him. Oz told Xander that the hospital staff refused to let him back into the room after getting Xander so upset that the monitors went off. They’d pounced on Oz to identify Xander, who’d been listed as a John Doe till then. Actually, Oz told him with quiet amusement, he’d been listed as “Zander Doe” because he’d apparently been coherent enough at one point to given them his first name. Xander was surprised at how much fun Oz was over the phone, for someone who didn’t say many words, he communicated extremely well and he kept Xander amused for nearly half an hour. It didn’t hurt that Giles had been the first one to call, so Xander’s relief that Spike was both unharmed and coming to see him, made him receptive to the jokes and banter.

Willow had also called, just checking in. Unlike Oz, who’d told Xander he was glad to learn that Spike was all right (ok, when Xander had excitedly reported that Giles had seen Spike, Oz had said ‘gladness’, but that was Oz) Willow hadn’t mentioned Spike. She’d asked about what the doctors had said and how he was feeling and when they were letting him out. Which was, sadly, pretty typical of their new relationship. They could talk fairly easily about most things but there were certain subjects that were taboo. As long as they didn’t stray into forbidden territory, things went smoothly, but the old tight connection was gone. Willow was a friend again, just not a close friend or a best friend. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Xander.”

Xander’s head turned quickly at the greeting. Spike was standing hesitantly in the doorway looking unwilling to come in. Xander had been making himself crazy staring at the door, so he’d finally turned on the tv and tried to interest himself in the antics of a bunch of sitcom teens whose lives were so different than his he almost found himself wondering if they were aliens. Maybe he should have found a sci-fi show.

“Spike!” Xander couldn’t stop smiling, even though he was sure he looked like an idiot. It felt like he hadn’t seen the vampire in weeks, although it had only been a few days. With nothing to do but lie here and think, he’d passed a good chunk of time remembering every minute of the fun they’d had the night Spike took him out to dinner. He’d been trying without success to think of something he could do for Spike that the vampire might like even half as much as Xander had enjoyed that dinner. He switched off the tv with the remote and gestured impatiently. “Aren’t you coming in?”

Spike entered the room, almost like he was scared to, and as soon as he got close enough, Xander grabbed his hand and tugged him closer. They studied each other, Xander relieved at the lack of any injuries and Spike visibly growing angrier by the second.

“Spike, I’m fine. Honest.”

“He hurt you, luv.” Spike perched on the edge of the bed and cradled the uninjured side of Xander’s face gently in one cool palm. “I promise you, he’ll pay for touching you.” Fingers traced with exquisite gentleness over the bruising on Xander’s face. “He’ll regret every second of pain he caused you.”

Spike’s fingers drifted down Xander’s jaw and Xander closed his eyes, the cool fingertips feeling good against the still painful bruises. Spike’s fingers jerked away suddenly and Xander opened his eyes, confused. Spike’s eyes flared golden and his face half shifted to demonic features. 

“He dared!” Spike hissed.

“Spike?”

“He dared to mark you. Bastard! I’ll rip his teeth out with my bare hands, I’ll see him crawling at my feet for mercy, I’ll…” Spike’s voice was rising and Xander was worried the staff would hear.

“Spike!” He tugged urgently on the vampire’s arm as Spike shot to his feet. “Spike! Stop it. You’re going to get yourself thrown out.”

Spike glared down at him, “Anyone who tries to throw me out of here will need hospitalization themselves.”

“And that’s such a good plan. Please, Spike. I’m angry too but we don’t need a fight with a bunch of hospital security people.” Xander looked up at Spike pleadingly. Spike sighed and shook his head, his features settling back to human and blue eyes meeting Xander’s apologetically. 

“Sorry, pet. Didn’t mean to lose it. Time for that later.”

“Exactly. Sit down and tell me what’s been happening. I take it Angelus survived the fire? Any chance he was at least horribly burned?”

Spike gave a short laugh at Xander’s hopeful question and relaxed. He cocked his head, studying Xander from head to toe. “Left side’s hurt, innit?” Xander nodded and Spike moved around to the other side of the bed. Xander started to shift to make room but Spike stopped him. “Don’t move, luv. I’ll take care of it.” Reaching under Xander, he eased him to the edge of the bed, then lay down next to him carefully, putting his left arm gingerly around Xander’s shoulders. “Ok?” he asked.

“Good.” Xander settled into the strong, cool body beside him. Leaning hurt a bit but he suppressed his wince wanting the reassurance of feeling Spike against him after the long night of worrying about him. “So, horribly burned?” he prompted.

“Sadly, no. Git gets my bloody home burned down and walks away without a scratch.” Spike thought about that for a second. “Well, he didn’t actually walk away, more like staggered. First the Watcher, then the Slayer, then me. We all had a go at him in turn.”

“And none of you killed him? What are you, a bunch of slackers?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Filling Xander in on the events from the night the factory burned, Spike listened to the steady rhythm of Xander’s heart and soaked in the human warmth pressed against the length of his body. The tight knot of tension inside him relaxed for the first time since Angelus had shown him that torn piece of fabric outside the burning factory. His boy was safe and was going to be fine. That was enough for now.

When he’d first seen Xander in the hospital bed, he’d frozen in the doorway, unable to move. Xander had looked so pale and broken lying there. A tall, lanky boy, physically bigger than Spike, he’d seemed impossibly small and fragile. Spike had been overwhelmed by the crushing realization that Xander was mortal and could have died so easily. 

It had gotten better once Xander had seen that he was there. Spike felt his lips curve as he remembered the smile that had lit Xander’s face at the sight of Spike standing in the doorway. Animated, smiling and talking, Xander hadn’t seemed so close to death. Battered, yes, but not dying. Took more than his ponce of a Sire to kill his boy, he thought in near contentment.

Xander was positively gleeful at Spike’s elaborate description of how first the Watcher, then the Slayer, then Spike had trounced Angel. He seemed particularly pleased that the Watcher had gotten some good shots in and he explained to Spike about the teacher that Angelus had killed. The darkness he’d always seen in Xander was close to the surface in his anger over Angelus. 

He admitted that he had stopped the Slayer from killing Angelus and was relieved that Xander wasn’t angry. Wasn’t like he had known Angelus had Xander at the time and Spike made it clear that he regretted stopping her. Xander apologized for having told the Watcher about the factory. It was obvious he felt guilty about the Watcher burning the place down. Spike just shrugged, his anger over the burning of the factory had nothing to do with Xander and was so far down the list of reasons he was going to kill his Sire that it didn’t even make the first page. “Not like I owned the place,” he said reassuringly and Xander laughed slightly. 

Spike cocked his head, listening. “Still having trouble breathing, luv?” He didn’t like the sounds he was hearing from Xander’s lungs. 

“Just a little breathless when I laugh,” Xander said dismissively. 

“You supposed to call someone when that happens?”

Xander looked sheepish. “I’m supposed to use the oxygen but I don’t like it. It makes my nose and throat really dry.”

Spike looked around and saw an oxygen rig near to hand. Reaching up he snagged it and pulled it to Xander. “Put it on, pet. Faster you’re better, faster we’ll get you out of here.” 

Xander took the plastic tube reluctantly. “But…” His barely voiced protest died at Spike’s glare and he sighed and adjusted the end in his nose, pulling the tubes over his head. “Happy?” he asked grumpily. 

“Won’t be happy ‘til you’re out of here. Need to get you somewhere safe, away from Angelus.” Changing the subject abruptly, he asked: “how did you get away? Haven’t told me yet.”

He listened intently as Xander described how he’d escaped, laughing at the idea of using a toilet as both tool and weapon. Listening to what wasn’t said as well, how Xander glossed over the worst bits. His boy’s worst injuries were from jumping out a second story window to escape - the broken arm and cracked ribs came from that little stunt. “And the bite?” he asked, barely keeping the growl out of his voice.

Xander’s eyes shifted away. “Angelus said something about having a snack before leaving.” It was obvious he was not telling Spike everything. Spike could sense the shame and fear coming off Xander in waves.

“He marked you deliberately, to get back at me, didn’t he?” he managed to ask calmly.

Xander nodded, still not meeting Spike’s eyes. “Said you hadn’t marked me so he would.” 

Spike heard the hurt in Xander’s voice. “Luv, I want to mark you. Have for a long time. Just didn’t think you were ready yet.” He reached over and turned Xander’s chin gently so Xander was looking at him. “Was getting ready to ask you, luv. Wanted you to want it to. Wanted you to understand what it means before I asked.” He willed Xander to believe him and was relieved when the hurt look faded and Xander nodded.

Spike held his boy gently for a long time, mindful of his injuries, listening to the regular thumping of his heart and the quiet hiss of the oxygen. 

Xander stirred finally and looked at him. “Spike, what did you mean earlier about going somewhere safe? I’m safe at my house, Angelus can’t come in.”

“You’re not safe anywhere in this town, luv. Angelus has lost a lot of points, losing a hostage that way. He’s low on minions and he’s going to have trouble keeping new ones. Minions only follow those they respect or are afraid of. A vampire who can’t control what goes on in his territory is going to see his minions drift away like smoke. He’s going to have to do something big to make up for losing you.” 

“But with you and Buffy both on his case, won’t he just lie low for awhile?”

Spike shook his head. “Not his style, pet. I don’t like it, but I want to get you right out of town until he’s dust.”

“No.”

“What do you mean, ‘no’?” 

“I mean I’m not running away from that bastard.”

“Xander, I can’t protect you every minute,” Spike started to explain but Xander interrupted.

“I’m not asking you to. This town may suck sometimes, but it’s my home. I’m not leaving.”

“You’ll do as I say,” Spike growled, eyes showing glints of yellow. “I need to know you’re safe.” How could he have forgotten how stubborn Xander could be?

“Sorry. Not happening. Gonna have to go to Plan B, Spike, because Plan A is not acceptable.” 

Spike glared at him and Xander just glared back. Impasse. Spike would consider using force for Xander’s own good but he couldn’t while Xander was injured. “Fine,” he said sulkily. “Plan B. I take you to your house and you don’t leave it until Angelus is dead.”

Little prick had the audacity to laugh at him. “And Plan C?” Xander asked, his laugh cutting off abruptly as his breaths got short and shallow. 

When Xander was better, Spike was going to kill him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the end, they compromised on Xander being very careful and never being alone at night anywhere that Angelus could get at him. Spike would stay with him until he was released, which the doctor had said would probably be tomorrow morning.

That settled, Xander asked a question that had been puzzling him. “Spike, you said you checked the hospital? How come you didn’t find me? It was still daylight when I was found so I had to have been here already.”

“No one checked in under your name, luv.”

“Oh, that’s right. They didn’t know who I was when I first came in. Oz told them later but I guess they hadn’t updated the records yet.” Ridiculously, he was a little hurt that Oz had apparently found him by smelling him and Spike hadn’t.

Spike’s soft growl surprised him and he looked closely at the vampire. Spike’s voice was gruff as he explained. “Not mad at you, pet. Mad at myself. I called the hospital instead of coming in person. Shouldn’t have done that.” He looked away and Xander leaned forward, trying to see his face. Spike sounded almost… embarrassed? “Didn’t dare come in person, was having a bit of trouble maintaining my human face,” he muttered under his breath, barely loud enough for Xander to hear.

Xander digested that. Spike was so upset he couldn’t keep control? A smile spread slowly across his face and he was beaming when Spike looked back at him. Spike narrowed his eyes. “Hasn’t happened in public since I was a fledge and we’re not talking about it again, right?”

Xander nodded. It didn’t matter that Spike was embarrassed by it. Whether it was due to anger at Angelus or worry for Xander, either way it showed how much Spike cared about him. He snuggled back into Spike’s side, tucking the memory away to savor later.


	25. Chapter 25

Spike had lingered dangerously long at the hospital. Xander would not get the final clearance to be released until he’d seen the doctor, who made his rounds well after sunrise. The sky was already streaked with pink before Spike reluctantly left Xander’s room and sought the safety of the tunnels. He’d left with a gentle kiss and a promise to be at Xander’s house immediately after sunset.

Xander had napped while waiting for the doctor, having spent most of the night awake and talking with Spike. He’d drifted off once or twice during the night, waking from restless dreams of deadly flames to find Spike by his side, reassuring him by touch and voice that he was real. Each time he’d stayed awake for a while, not wanting to waste the time with Spike on sleeping. 

As arranged, he’d called the school library when they discharged him. He knew the hospital had called his house at some point after they had identified him but Xander wasn’t surprised when his parents didn’t come to see him. The hospital had probably gotten a hold of his dad, he guessed from the careful questions about whether someone else would be available to take him home. Giles had told Xander that something would be arranged. The enthusiasm he’d shown for the mundane task told Xander that someone on the hospital staff had probably said something to Giles about his parents. So much for medical confidentiality. 

To his pleasure, Oz showed up to drive him home. Oz just said casually that his van was easier on injured people than Giles’ little car and that his morning classes were boring, so it was no trouble. He drove Xander to his house and followed him upstairs room with a blessed lack of comments about the state of the living room and the stale scent of booze that was almost a permanent feature of the downstairs rooms. 

He’d invited Oz to stay awhile and Oz, with a fine disregard for the school district’s truancy policy, cheerfully blew off the rest of his morning classes to sitting talking and watching tv with Xander. Xander was cleared to return to school tomorrow but had been released on the condition he spend the day quietly in bed. 

Not surprisingly, Oz was a restful person to be around and having someone to talk to gave Xander a break from his uneasy thoughts about Angelus and bite marks. 

He surprised himself by telling Oz that he and Spike were dating. It wasn’t something he’d planned on telling anyone yet but somehow he found himself talking to Oz about Spike. Not girl talk, not gushing or anything, just saying that they’d become very close and were kind of dating. 

Glancing over at Oz nervously, Xander was reassured when Oz received the information with the same unflappable calm that was his reaction to pretty much everything. “Huh,” was all he said in response.

Xander tried to imagine Willow being so accepting and his mind boggled. Even in his most wildly optimistic moments he couldn’t see Willow taking the news that Xander was falling in love with a male vampire with anything other than shock and vocal disapproval. Really vocal disapproval. 

His thoughts screeched to a halt and he re-played what he had just been thinking. Falling in love? Was he falling in love with Spike? Xander found himself smiling and an expanding glow of warmth filled him. Apparently he was. 

Remembering that he wasn’t alone, he looked quickly at Oz, hoping he hadn’t noticed Xander sitting there and grinning like a complete idiot. Oz looked at him and one corner of his mouth quirked up slightly.

“When I met Willow for the first time,” he said out of nowhere. “I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I’d only seen her a couple of times and never even spoken to her and I couldn’t get her out of my head.” His eyes met Xander’s in quiet understanding. “Then we started dating and it was like I’d found the center of my world and nothing made sense unless she was with me.” He smiled. “That’s when I knew I loved her.”

Xander smiled back at Oz and couldn’t help thinking how lucky Willow was to have found someone so right for her. Even though things weren’t the same between Willow and himself, he was really glad he liked Willow’s boyfriend. Anything else would be unnatural. 

Sitting in comfortable silence with Oz, Xander wondered how long he’d been in love with Spike and why he was so completely un-freaked by the idea.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander was miserably self-conscious about the bite mark on his neck. After Oz left, he’d removed the bandage covering it and anxiously studied the mark in the bathroom mirror. It looked huge: a raw, red bite mark, unmistakable for anything other than what it was, even in Sunnydale. 

The white flag of the bandage was too conspicuous and Xander decided against putting it back on. As the sun lowered in the sky, he burrowed anxiously in his closet like a girl before a big date, trying on various combinations of his few shirts until he found the one that seemed to cover it up best. He hated the mark for its own sake, because Angelus had put it there and because of what he was afraid it meant: that Angelus had put some sort of claim on him. 

The books he’d read on vampires talked about marks and claims. Like everything else in the books, the authors disagreed on what they meant. Xander had jokingly considered asking Spike to collaborate with him on a book about vampires. At least with a vampire as co-author, they would get the facts right. Then he and Oz could do one on werewolves and set the record straight there.

Realizing his mind was wandering into bizarre territory and he was fingering the bite mark again - something he found himself doing frequently - he dropped his hand and finished getting dressed.

The books described bite marks as generally falling into two categories: natural wounds from feeding and Claims. Obviously, every time a vampire drank from someone, they left a bite mark. The disagreement came over people who lived through an attack versus people who were deliberately marked by a vampire. Some of the books said it was the same thing: just a wound that eventually healed. Others said that vampires “marked” or “claimed” a human by biting them, with or without specific rituals, in order to show their ownership of the human. 

The idea of being owned wigged Xander out and the books that equated Claiming with slavery didn’t help but some of the books talked about it more like it was a partnership - a kind of protection in exchange for services deal. Spike had said he wanted to “mark” Xander when he was ready, which sounded like something a lot more than just a bite mark.

The question was, did Angelus think he had some kind of claim on Xander now that he’d bitten Xander?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike arrived shortly after sunset, standing under Xander’s window and looking up at him. Xander opened the window and called down quietly to Spike that he’d meet him at the front door. He turned to walk downstairs when Spike startled him by jumping up and catching the edge of the roof, swinging himself up easily. 

“No need to bother your folks, luv,” Spike said quietly as he crouched on the roof outside Xander’s window.

Xander grinned. “Come in, Spike,” he invited, pushing the window all the way open and stepping back to give Spike room. He’d given the vampire an open invitation to his home at the hospital but Spike had just shaken his head and told him it didn’t work that way. The invitation had to be specific and while the vampire was at the house. Otherwise, all vampires would have to do was overhear someone else’s invitation to have a free pass. Which made sense to Xander. Whatever it was that prevented vampires from entering people’s homes - Spike described it as an invisible but tangible barrier - whoever or whatever set it up had obviously put some thought into it. Something to balance the scales maybe, given that vampires were stronger and faster than the humans they hunted. 

It had felt wrong when he realized that he’d never invited Spike into his home. Granted, he didn’t usually invite anyone over, not even in his younger years. His dad had never liked other kids hanging around and Xander had generally spent his time at Jesse’s and Willow’s houses or outdoors. But it wasn’t like they’d never been inside his house. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike was going to drive Xander absolutely out of his mind if he kept this up. What was the point of dating an evil, blood-sucking, creature of the night, vampire if they wouldn’t act like one? Xander had been all set for some serious nookie while laid up and instead he’d found himself ensconced with a mother-hen, worry-wort.

Spike didn’t want to do anything other than put one arm around Xander and occasionally kiss him gently. Every time Xander tried something more, Spike stopped him, telling him his ribs were still injured and they had to wait for him to heal. 

Ok, Spike was right; twisting and moving too quickly sent short stabs of pain through his ribs and led to some shallow, slightly wheezy breathing but it passed quickly and wasn’t a big deal. Damn vampire could hear his breathing and got worried every time it got even slightly irregular. The fact that Spike was probably right just made Xander grumpier.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike couldn’t help smiling as Xander shifted away from him. He wouldn’t dream of telling Xander he was cute when he pouted but that’s what he was doing and it was adorable. Not enough to make Spike give in, his boy was ignoring the pain he was in and Spike wasn’t going to let him. Even though he wasn’t naturally patient, Spike knew that straining the injured ribs now would just lead to a longer healing period.

“What does it mean for a vampire to mark someone?” 

Xander’s voice broke the silence between them. He was carefully casual, not looking at Spike, pretending to concentrate on the movie currently playing on the telly. It wasn’t a surprise, Spike had known they were going to have this conversation sooner rather than later and, once again, he cursed Angelus for his interference. 

“A mark says you belong to the demon who marked you.” Watching Xander intently, Spike was reassured that he saw only curiosity and not fear as Xander looked over at him. “Demons are possessive, luv. ’S just the way we’re built. Never met a vampire who wasn’t.”

Spike was aware that Xander had been subtly trying to hide the bite mark from him. It touched him that his boy knew Angelus’ mark bothered him but covering it didn’t conceal the fact that it was there, that Angelus had left his mark deliberately. Spike could smell the lingering trace of Angelus beneath the antiseptic and soap that overlay his Sire’s scent. 

“Some get marked accidental like, something interrupts the vampire while feeding or some such. Long as the mark is on them, other demons know to stay away or risk the wrath of the one whose mark is on ’em.” 

“With a real mark, it gets renewed. Keeps it fresh. Lets other demons know the marked human is under the demon’s protection.”

“So, can vampires tell the difference?” Xander asked.

“Not at first,” Spike answered reluctantly but truthfully, “but if it isn’t renewed, the mark fades and others know the human isn’t really marked.”

“Oh,” Xander said faintly and lapsed back into uneasy silence. 

“Xander,” Spike waited until Xander looked at him before continuing. “Angelus marked you out of spite, ‘s why it hurt. A real mark doesn’t hurt, luv.” Spike traced a finger seductively along the unmarked side of Xander’s neck. “A real mark is pleasure like you’ve never known.” 

Desire flared in Xander’s eyes and Spike leaned over to kiss him. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike left Xander’s house when it became apparent his boy couldn’t stay awake any longer. He made arrangements to meet Xander at the library the next day shortly after sunset. 

Spike had used the tunnels to approach the library, arriving well before the scheduled time to listen at the tunnel entrance. Spike waited until he was sure the librarian was alone before entering through the stacks. His boy wasn’t due to arrive for another little bit and he wanted to talk to the Watcher alone first.

“Watcher.”

The Watcher jumped, startled at the unexpected voice. “Spike.” he greeted cautiously, “I believe you’re a bit early.” Spike noticed he moved with seeming casualness to stand near a collection of weapons on the shelf. 

“Wanted to talk to you before my boy gets here,” Spike admitted, ignoring the Watcher’s defensive position. There was an uneasy pause as Spike struggled with himself. What he had come to say went against every instinct he had, asking humans for help protecting Spike’s property. The Watcher simply waited for him to go on, studying Spike intently as Spike fidgeted. “This thing with Angelus is going to get ugly,” he finally said. “I want Xander kept out of it.”

It was obvious he’d surprised the librarian and his stiff posture relaxed slightly. “I agree,” he said easily. “The boy is hardly equipped with the fighting skills necessary…”

Spike snarled at him and the Watcher’s hand dropped to the weapons near him. “My boy escaped from Angelus and his minions on his own armed with nothing but guts,” he said angrily, his eyes flaring yellow at the disrespect. “This has nothing to do with any lack of skill or courage.”

“I’m sorry, but wasn’t that why you want him kept away from the battle?”

“I want him out of this because Angelus lost face over him. A human child showed up a Master Vampire, that’s not something Angelus is going to either forgive or forget. Angelus needs him back to show he hasn’t lost control and every other demon in this town with aspirations for power is going to want Xander as a trophy to show they can keep him when Angelus lost him.” The Watcher’s mouth opened in a silent “oh,” of realization and Spike’s fists clenched in frustrated anger. He kept himself from lashing out physically only with an effort. “The story of what happened is all over town. Some of Angelus’ former minions are spreading the word that Angelus is weak.”

Giles’ head went up alertly, like a hunting dog on a fresh scent. Moving away from the weapons, he stepped towards Spike. “Then this is the time to take him on, when he’s vulnerable,” he said.

Spike pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Angelus has been turning a lot of minions, building a power base. Newly turned fledges aren’t worth much but enough of ’em can shift the balance through sheer numbers. Is your Slayer up to handling Angelus and 20 minions?” 

“I’d rather we not put that to the test,” Giles answered honestly. “Buffy’s good but Angel is her weak spot. She can’t let go of her love for him.” 

“Head games have always been Angelus’ specialty,” Spike noted, wondering if the Slayer would be any use to him after all. If the silly bint couldn’t stop mooning over her one-time lover, she wouldn’t put her heart into the fight with Angelus, which made her a liability, not an asset. 

“Buffy will acquit herself adequately in a fight but I fear we cannot rely on her for a killing blow.” Good, the Watcher was being straightforward in his assessment of the situation. “My greatest strength lies in my books,” the Watcher continued, gesturing at the shelves in illustration, “however I am trained in the use of a number of weapons and am quite good with a crossbow, so I am of some use in a fight.”

“Yeah, heard you took out old bat-face himself.”

The Watcher smiled with remembered satisfaction. “Indeed.” Bringing his gaze back to the present, he looked searchingly at Spike. “The remaining question is: how far are you willing to go against Angel? I understand he’s your Sire. Are you prepared to kill him?”

“Too right I am. Bastard’s gone too far and I’m willing to accept any help I can get in taking him down.” Spike made a frustrated noise. “I can’t be sure of taking him out alone. He’s back to full strength and he’s got too many minions guarding his back to be an easy target.” The Watcher had been honest, so Spike gave him the same courtesy. “In a straight fight, I don’t know if I can take him. He’s over a century older than me and that gives him an edge.” He looked the Watcher straight in the eye. “That’s why I’m here. Together, your Slayer and I are a match for him.” He couldn’t help adding: “That is, if she gets her head out of her arse.”

He could see the Watcher agreed with him and settled himself comfortably to wait for Xander to arrive.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Slayer trailed into the library last, looking pale and tired. Spike eyed her suspiciously, scenting the air deeply and frowning at the taint of sickness that accompanied her. Seeing his eyes on her, the Slayer managed a scowl in his direction but her heart clearly wasn’t in it. She dropped down into a chair immediately as if she needed the support, apparently unable to stay on alert even with a vampire she didn’t trust in the room. 

Perfect. The Slayer was too sick to back him up which meant that Angelus would have the time to finish establishing his Court. In another few days, he’d have doubled the number of minions he had now. 

Xander went immediately to Spike’s side, keeping a wary eye out for trouble from the group. Giles was studying Buffy worriedly. “Buffy, all you feeling all right?” he asked.

“I’m fine, Giles, just a little tired,” the Slayer responded, sitting up straighter and trying to look alert.

“You’re a bloody liability, is what you are,” Spike snorted.

“Who asked you anyway?”

“Don’t need anyone to ask, ‘m not hunting with someone who can barely stand straight and will be useless in a fight.”

Buffy rose to her feet, her chair clattering to the floor behind her. “I don’t hunt, I patrol, and I can take you any day of the week.”

Spike noted the way her hands gripped the edge of the table to steady herself and exchanged a quick look with the Watcher. Seeing the understanding in the Watcher’s face, Spike acted. His fist came up, deliberately slowly, and when she laughed and dodged it easily, he swept her legs out from underneath her. She fell to the floor with a crash and Spike was peripherally aware of the Watcher’s tense stance and of his boy moving to block the redhead from interfering. Content the two who mattered understood this demonstration, Spike pounced. 

The Slayer’s illness made her slow. She tried to bring her legs up to kick him, tried to buck him off, but he was able to pin her easily. He morphed into game face, just for fun, and lowered his fangs toward her neck. Her struggles renewed and Spike relented, knowing he could only push this so far. Despite his craving for the rich, heady taste of Slayer’s blood pulsing so tantalizingly close to the surface, he forced himself to sit back and shifted back to human guise. “You’re dead, Slayer and some lucky vampire has the bragging rights.”

Xander cleared his throat sharply, cutting into the mutual glare between Spike and Buffy. They both looked at him with irritation. “Separate corners, you two,” Xander ordered and waited until Spike had bounced to his feet and stepped away from Buffy. “Buffy, Spike’s right and you know it. Even I can tell you look sick. If it’s the flu that’s been going around, going out on patrol would be stupid and could get people killed. Including yourself.”

Spike grinned nastily at her and she opened her mouth to snap at him but Xander overrode her. “Spike can patrol in your place,” he volunteered.

“What?!”

“Not bloody likely!” 

Their matching indignant shouts overlapped. Spike stared incredulously at his boy and Buffy argued as she climbed slowly to her feet. “He’s what I patrol against. You want to send the mass murderer out to protect the helpless?”

“What she said. ‘m no bleedin’ white hat, boy.”

“Spike, you agreed to work with Buffy and Giles until we can kill Angelus.” Xander held his hand up sharply and Spike subsided, still grumbling under his breath about being evil. Xander switched his stare to Buffy, who looked mutinous. “You’re too sick to patrol. If you try, you’re either going to collapse or you’re going to get yourself killed. Working together means we do each other’s jobs when one of us isn’t able to do it.”

“Xander’s right.” Giles had been listening quietly. He’d forced himself to remain still during Spike’s demonstration, knowing that sometimes Buffy had to be shown things. Now, he stepped forward to Xander’s side. “Buffy, you need to go straight home and go to bed. Spike has kept his word about the truce. He has a common interest in keeping the number of Angelus’ minions down, therefore he can patrol in your place for a night or two.” Giles looked sternly at Spike. “Are you willing to keep an eye on things until Buffy can resume her duties?”

Xander’s argument had already swayed him and the Watcher had a point. If plans to take on Angelus had to be put on hold because of the Slayer’s weakness, Spike would need to spend the next couple of nights with his ear to the ground anyway. Grudgingly, he agreed. “Fine. I’ll make sure things stay calm for the next couple of nights. But I’m not staking harmless fledges just because I stumble across ‘em. If they’re Angelus’ - fine, they’re dust. If someone else turned ‘em, I’m not staking ‘em.”

“That will be sufficient.” Giles agreed readily, ignoring Buffy’s sputtering protest. “Thank you, Spike.”

Giles immediately bundled up Buffy and Willow, ignoring Buffy’s argument that Spike shouldn’t be allowed to patrol and that she could do a quick sweep through town, and herded them out of the library, intent on driving them home. 

Spike and Xander looked at each other, Xander apologetic, Spike still having trouble believing he had just agreed to patrol the Hellmouth for the White Hat Brigade.

“Are you ok with this?” Xander asked hesitantly.

“Not gonna be able to show my face anywhere in town if this gets out.”

Xander hastily suppressed a smile. “Spike, I don’t know how to break this to you, but you’ve got to be on everyone’s weirdo list already since you’ve been seen hanging out with me.” He took a step closer and reached out, closing his fingers around Spike’s in a warm grip. “I probably ruined your reputation a long time ago.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, pet.” Spike leaned forward and kissed him, letting Xander hold him close when he tried to break off the kiss before it got serious. Listening carefully, Xander’s lungs sounded clear and Spike brought his hands up, burying them in Xander’s hair, holding him steady as their tongues dueled. 

He stepped back after a long interlude, grinning as Xander opened his eyes and smiled sappily at him. “Let’s get you home, luv and I’ll see about Angelus’ minions.”

“I could go with you,” Xander offered half-heartedly.

“Not until your ribs are fully healed and you’ve had a few more self defense lessons,” Spike countered, touched by the offer. He knew Xander didn’t really want to go with him. His boy wanted a ringside seat for the inevitable fight with Angelus but that was an exception. Xander still preferred to chase vampires off rather than kill them and that wasn’t an option with Angelus’ people. Plus, there was no way Spike was letting Xander roam the Hellmouth at night until Angelus was taken care of. Xander’s value to other demons would disappear once Angelus was dust.


	26. Chapter 26

Spike had been watching the mansion for three nights now. Angelus’ few remaining minions were sticking close to the Court, sheltering under his Sire’s dubious protection. Spike couldn’t directly account for all the missing fledges - he’d taken out an even dozen the first two nights he’d hunted in place of the Slayer and he’d spread the word far and wide that anyone allying with Angelus was going to have a very short immortality. Checking the numbers still at the mansion, it looked like several fledges had simply opted out of the situation, fleeing the Hellmouth and the wrath of both Masters. Which suited Spike fine. He had lost the last of his minions either to the fire or to Angelus and he had no intention of replacing them - even without his promise to Xander, keeping any kind of a Court would only make Spike vulnerable right now. 

Like Angelus and his bloody mansion. Spike had seriously considered just burning the place down, hopefully around Angelus’ ears. If he could have been sure he would catch Angelus inside, he would have. Serve the bastard right for getting Spike’s home burned down. Problem was, he couldn’t be sure it would kill Angelus. If it didn’t, Angelus would retaliate and since he didn’t know where Spike was staying - thank the Hellmouth for the multitude of vampire-friendly places to sleep the day; Spike was moving every night to ensure he wasn’t easy to find - Angelus would take his anger out on Xander or the little band of white hats. Most likely on Xander since Angelus had a good idea of what the boy meant to Spike. Angelus knew where Xander lived and would think nothing of burning the boy’s house down to get back at Spike.

No, burning the mansion was out. Not that Spike didn’t have a good time picturing his Sire trapped in the burning building as flames licked relentlessly towards his helpless body, Angelus screaming as his flesh ignited; but, more’s the pity, it wasn’t going to happen. 

Angelus was playing it cautious, surrounding himself with minions at all times and rarely venturing outside. Given that Spike had been filling in for the Slayer these last three nights, it was unlikely that Angelus knew she was sick. Dusted minions didn’t return to say just who had staked them and Spike had been careful not to leave any witnesses. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Buffy returned to school after being out sick for three days. It was still quicker than most of the kids who’d gotten sick, many of whom still weren’t back. Slayer healing apparently also worked for diseases and not just injuries. Willow had been keeping in touch with her progress and said she’d been encouraging Buffy to stay away until she felt 100%. According to Willow, Buffy was feeling guilty, saying she’d let down the Slayer tradition by getting sidelined by something as mundane as the flu. 

Xander was pretty sure Buffy was actually feeling a sense of competition with Spike who was reporting to Giles every night about the number of minions he’d killed. Ok, Spike’s idea of a report tended to be something like: “Staked five last night. Ta, Watcher.” as he swept Xander out the door but it did sum up the previous night’s activities accurately. Apparently, twelve vampires in two nights was way over Buffy’s average. Xander couldn’t help feeling proud that his vampire was doing better than the Slayer, even if it was a deeply morbid competition over how many vampires they killed. He just kept reminding himself that Spike was killing Angelus’ minions - minions who were being turned for the sole purpose of killing Spike and the rest of them. That helped him keep perspective in this horrible little war. Now that Buffy was back, Xander hoped that things would be over soon. Angelus was one vampire he would gladly see staked. The sooner the better.

Sitting in the library after classes on Buffy’s first day back at school, Xander wondered if Spike shouldn’t take patrol again tonight. Buffy had seemed fully recovered but people were usually easily tired after being sick. He wasn’t sure who would take that as a bigger insult: Spike or Buffy, but he was depressingly certain that neither would be delighted if he made the suggestion.

Willow was sitting with him in the library after their last class, both reading the newspaper as Xander waited for Spike to arrive. Well, Xander had been reading. Willow was rattling on about what was in her sections, reading out loud the interesting bits until Xander had simply closed his section and listened to Willow’s recitation. Xander was pleased she was here at all. She was still uncomfortable around Spike but had stopped complaining about him since Spike was patrolling for Buffy and both Buffy and Giles had accepted that he was, at least temporarily, on their side. 

Willow was reading about how badly the flu had hit the whole town. “It’s awful.” She looked up from the article, her face filled with horrified pity. “A whole bunch of kids in the children’s ward at the hospital died. I’m so glad Buffy didn’t go out on patrol the night she got sick. If she had, she might have gotten even sicker than she was.” She looked down for a second and then reluctantly added: “It wigged me out when Spike attacked her but I guess it did show her that she needed to rest.”

“I think Spike’s figured out that Buffy is kind of a show-don’t-tell person,” Xander replied. He knew Spike had enjoyed the little demonstration but then, so had Xander. Buffy needed to be smacked upside the head to knock some sense into her and watching Spike take her down in less than two seconds had been pure fun. “Where’s Oz?” he asked, changing the subject. Buffy was bound to show up any minute and talking about Spike still tended to set her off.

“He’s got a gig tonight in LA,” Willow answered. “He’ll be back tomorrow.”

Xander just nodded. It wasn’t unusual for Oz to vanish from classes for a day or two. Xander just wondered how on earth Oz was going to graduate given how often he missed school.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike spent the early part of every evening with Xander before going out hunting - he refused to call it patrolling, especially now that the Slayer was back on the job. Spike was still keeping his own eye on things, not trusting the Slayer to do the job right. She still seemed unwilling to tackle Angelus directly and Spike was getting frustrated by the ongoing delays even though Spike wasn’t ready to push too hard himself while Xander was still healing. 

It was the best part of the day for Xander, snuggling with Spike on his bed, talking about nothing at all and trading slow, lazy kisses. If his parents were out when they got home, Spike came in with him, otherwise he simply waited till Xander closed the front door behind him then walked around and climbed in Xander’s window. 

As far as Xander was concerned, Spike and his parents would meet over his dead body. Which probably wasn’t a good idea either - he could just see his dad saying something insulting at Xander’s funeral about how Xander was to blame for his own death and Spike attacking him. Nope, Spike and his parents should never meet, that was Xander’s plan and he was sticking to it.

He’d figured out some time ago that Spike had been badly scared by Xander’s injuries. He supposed it made sense, Spike had only just gotten over the loss of someone he loved and that had been another vampire; someone who healed quickly and had only a few vulnerabilities. Spike had lost Drusilla in spite of that and now he’d taken up with a human, someone he viewed as fragile under any circumstances. It had been really bad timing on Xander’s part to get injured just then. On the one hand, it was really sweet that Spike was being so protective and careful of Xander’s injuries, on the other hand, Xander was getting so frustrated he was lying awake at night planning ways to overpower Spike and jump his bones. Of course, he didn’t actually own handcuffs but a guy could dream.

Lying in Spike’s arms, Spike once again seemingly content with just watching tv and kissing, Xander decided enough was enough. Watching tv with Spike was great fun because Spike was right with Xander in talking to the screen, insulting the characters and giving advice and the kissing was great but he wanted more and Spike was just going to have to deal. Shifting casually so he was lying on his side next to Spike, Xander kissed him hungrily. Spike responded, turning his head and kissing him back and for a long minute, Xander forgot about plans and goals as he lost himself in the taste and feel of his vampire.

Eventually, Xander broke off and began moving downwards, nuzzling along Spike’s jaw and down his neck, pressing little kisses along the pale, cool flesh as Spike stroked his hair and arched his neck, giving Xander free rein. Reaching the neckline of Spike’s shirt, Xander wished that just this once Spike had worn something other than a tight t-shirt, something easy to remove subtly. Stymied for the moment, he nibbled his way back up to Spike’s lips. Who’d have thought it would take this kind of tactical planning to get past first base with your boyfriend? Spike buried his hands in Xander’s hair as their tongues played, exploring each other’s mouths as if they were still uncharted territory. Remembering his plan, Xander dropped his good hand down and tried to gently work Spike’s belt buckle open.

Spike’s lips turned up beneath his and he chuckled. He withdrew slightly, holding Xander’s head gently in both hands, and his eyes gleamed with laughter as he looked into Xander’s. “Someone’s being naughty.”

“I’m trying,” Xander said, exasperated. “A little help would be nice.” He gave Spike his best pleading look. “My ribs are fine, Spike.” Letting the belt buckle go, he rubbed his fingers teasingly along Spike’s crotch, feeling the beginnings of an erection, as he said earnestly: “I worry about you - out fighting every night with a raging hard-on. People might misunderstand.”

“Oi!” Spike said indignantly. He countered quickly, sliding his leg between Xander’s and rubbing sensuously against Xander’s own hardening cock. “Not the only one with that problem, brat.”

“So, why are we both wasting such promising material on separate showers?” Xander asked reasonably, his fingers busily unzipping Spike’s zipper, grateful Spike wasn’t wearing button-fly jeans. He’d never have gotten those off with only one hand. 

Spike laughed and kissed him quickly and Xander felt Spike’s hands drop and begin skillfully unfastening Xander’s pants as Xander continued to work on Spike’s. Then Xander suddenly had a handful of another man’s cock for the first time in his life. For one second he froze, completely unsure of what to do. Spike’s slender fingers touched his own erection and he groaned in pleasure at the feeling of those cool, strong digits closing around his penis and easing it out. 

Spike’s grip slid teasingly along the length of his cock and then tightened slightly, enclosing his erection in a loose tunnel. Xander closed his eyes, arching into Spike’s touch, hips thrusting forward, feeling his cock sliding further into Spike’s hand. He tried to match Spike’s movements, beginning to slide his hand up and down the length of Spike’s cock. His eyes snapped open and he looked down between them in surprise as skin unexpectedly moved and stretched along the shaft. Fascinated, he realized that Spike was uncircumcised and his hand began on its own accord to explore the differences. He’d never seen an uncircumcised penis before. Not that he’d spent a lot of time looking at other guys’ dicks, but still, sex ed could have covered this better. 

He looked up to see Spike smiling at him, matching laughter filled his own brown eyes and he looked down again. Gaining confidence at Spike’s obvious enjoyment of his touch, Xander began trying moves he knew he liked on himself, adding a slight twisting motion and rubbing his thumb over the head. Both of them began pumping harder, their hands falling into rhythm with each other’s movements. Watching their hands moving in concert, their matching erections jutting out of their unfastened pants, was the most erotic thing Xander had ever seen. 

He forgot all about watching, eyes closing, his head arching back as arousal built between them. They were both rocking their hips, thrusting into each other’s fists, pleasure building, tension growing, until they came almost in unison, spattering their release across each other and the bedding as Xander bit his lip to stop himself from crying out.

Afterwards, they lay entwined for long minutes, sated, still gently holding each other’s spent cocks, Xander breathing hard in the aftermath of his orgasm and envying Spike’s lack of breath. He could almost sense Spike using his vampiric senses to check him over but he hadn’t felt even a twinge from his ribs and hoped Spike would finally be reassured. 

“Bloody hell!”

“Spike?” Alarmed by the vehemence in Spike’s voice, Xander slid back a little and propped himself up on one elbow to look over at the vampire. 

Spike’s voice was filled with horror. “Damnit, I didn’t bring any spare clothes. These are a right mess now and every demon in town will be able to smell me a block away. There’s no other way, gonna have to wear something of yours long enough to get home.” He looked at Xander seriously. “I’d almost rather walk through town naked than wear your kit, mate. Next time, let’s get undressed first.”

Laughing, Xander smacked him on the shoulder. “Like there’s ever going to be a next time after that remark,” he threatened. 

Spike looked unimpressed. Not surprisingly, given that Xander had just totally blown the hard-to-get card. He wished he could offer Spike a joint shower - he suspected showering with Spike would be full of naughty goodness - but his parents weren’t that oblivious and that would be seriously pushing his luck. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been ten days since he was injured and Xander was feeling good. Other than the cast on his arm, he was essentially recovered. The doctors had warned him not to get involved in any strenuous activity yet but normal bending and twisting no longer hurt at all. 

Spike still wasn’t willing to resume their self-defense workouts, saying Xander’s ribs needed another week before Xander put that kind of strain on them but Xander had persuaded Giles to teach him to use a crossbow. Spike continued to walk Xander home from school every night, which was great under any circumstances because it meant he was seeing Spike daily but things had gotten seriously scary the night they were ambushed by four vampires on the way home.

Spike had sensed them just before they attacked. He’d stopped suddenly, cutting off Xander in mid-word with a warning gesture and stood listening hard, eyes scanning the surrounding area. Xander, heart pounding, had listened as well but couldn’t hear anything except the normal sounds of a residential neighborhood in the early evening. He’d stayed quiet, trusting Spike and reached for his cross and stake, pulling them out of his pocket and waiting tensely. 

Spike snarled and vamped out, grabbing Xander’s arm. “Run,” was all he said and he took off, pulling Xander behind him as he headed off at an angle across the street. Xander had followed, running full tilt after him as Spike hauled him along by one arm. Xander heard shouts and running footsteps from three directions but didn’t dare look around, putting all his concentration into keeping up. Spike was aiming for something specific on the next block: a huge old tree with a trunk it would take three people to get their arms around. Reaching it, he pulled Xander in front of him, turning him so his back was to the tree. “Stay there,” he ordered and spun to face their attackers who had already caught up with them. 

Spike swung as he turned, the stake he’d pulled out as he ran landing squarely in the center of the first vampire’s chest. Xander watched the snarling demon face disappear, the ends of Spike’s coat scattering the dust as Spike kept moving, meeting the remaining three vampires before they could close on the tree where Xander waited tensely, clutching his cross and stake. 

Spike was everywhere, spinning, kicking, punching, always managing to stay between Xander and the other three vampires, moving with beautiful, deadly grace. He clearly outmatched the other vampires and Xander had felt like an idiot, standing with his back against a tree, a cross and stake held uselessly in his hands as he watched Spike easily taking out the four vampires on his own. He knew the vampires had been sent by Angelus and that terrified Xander. Spike broke the back of the fourth vampire with an audible crack and let her drop, turning immediately to check on Xander. 

Xander was surprised when Spike didn’t follow through by staking the crippled vampire but Spike just said briefly that he was going to use her to send a message to Angelus. Xander didn’t like the sound of that but Spike hustled them quickly to Xander’s house, keeping a wary eye out for more attackers and Xander didn’t have a chance to ask any questions. 

Arriving at his doorstep, Spike asked him for something to write on. Xander hesitantly opened up his backpack and rummaged inside. Handing over a pen and a pad of paper, he watched as Spike quickly scrawled a note before tearing off the page and handing him back the pad. Absently tucking it back inside his pack, he asked, “are you sure that’s a good idea?” 

“It’s necessary, pet. Have to let the minions know that Angelus can’t get the job done.” Spike had relaxed once they reached Xander’s front porch but was still keeping most of his attention on the neighborhood.

Xander hadn’t been able to read what Spike had written, now he held out his hand for the note. Spike glanced at him sharply, then reluctantly passed it over. Xander pursed his lips in a silent whistle as he read the taunting phrases. “This is going to piss him off, big time.”

“That’s the point, luv. Angelus reacts when he’s challenged, he doesn’t think. He makes mistakes.”

“Are you sure you want to escalate things this way?” Xander was troubled by the open challenge in Spike’s note.

“Already a war, Xander,” Spike said seriously. “Taking you once to use against me was the start of it.” Xander couldn’t help noticing the way Spike’s eyes lingered on Xander’s neck where Angelus had bitten him. “He’s trying to take you back. I need his minions to know that anyone who tries is dust.”

“Won’t that just make Angelus come after me himself?”

Spike cupped his face with both hands and looked at him steadily. “I’ll die before I let anything happen to you, luv.”

Xander grimaced. “I don’t want that to happen either.” He caught Spike’s hands in both of his and held them as they dropped from his face. “Spike, if you mark me, if you put your mark over Angelus’, will that help?”

Spike’s jaw clenched and he started to pull away but Xander tightened his grip, holding him so the two stayed face to face, Xander searching Spike’s eyes. “Don’t want to mark you as part of a pissing contest with Angelus,” Spike said finally.

“That’s not why I want it either. I hate having his mark on me but I’d want you to mark me even if Angelus never had. Your mark erasing his - just a bonus,” Xander said earnestly. 

Spike relaxed and sighed. “Sit with me, luv.” He pulled Xander over to the front steps, sitting down on the top step and tugging Xander down to the step below so he was sitting between Spike’s legs. Xander leaned back into his vampire’s body as Spike wrapped his arms around Xander. He could almost feel the thoughts whirling in Spike’s head and just waited, enjoying the familiar strength of Spike’s arms around him.

“Tryin’ to work it out, Xander,” Spike finally said.

“I know, take as long as you need.”

After another long silence, Spike began talking. “Problem is, until Angelus’ mark fades, my mark won’t cover it completely.” Xander stirred and Spike kissed the top of his head. “Humans would only see the more recent mark but demons would be able to sense the older mark under mine - like you can smell the original smell under the air freshener you spray over it.” Xander nodded, understanding but not liking it. 

“How long will it take for the original mark to fade?” he asked unhappily.

“Least a month, maybe six weeks. Until then, adding a second mark could scare off other demons who might not want to get between feuding Masters. Problem is, anyone really cocky might take it as a challenge. Second problem - Angelus would hear about it.”

Xander craned his neck to look up at Spike, who shrugged. “Demons gossip worse than old grannies ‘bout things like that,” he explained. “It would be a direct challenge, an in-your-face kind of thing Angelus couldn’t ignore. As it stands, he can pretend he didn’t mark you on purpose and that he doesn’t care about you. If another Master obliterates his mark, it’s saying Angelus is too weak to keep his own property. A mark means you’re his property in the demon world, luv, whether he wants you or not.” Xander shuddered and Spike’s arms tightened reassuringly. “Angelus wouldn’t be able to sit back and send his minions out anymore. He’d have to try and take you back personally.”

“Wouldn’t that be a good thing? Get him out into the open where you can fight him?”

“Slayer’s not ready yet. She’s using any old excuse she can find to put Angelus on the back burner.” Spike looked away and Xander could almost feel his frustration and shame. “I can’t guarantee I can take him alone, luv. ‘s why I went to your little band of do-gooders in the first place. Angelus has 150 years on me and he’s back to full strength. I can’t risk losing because if he wins, he’ll come after you. It’d be his way of pissing on my ashes.”

“Spike.” Xander turned in Spike’s arms, waiting until Spike reluctantly looked back at him and pulled Spike’s head down for a kiss. “I love you.” Letting go and anxiously watching Spike’s reaction, he smiled in relief as he saw the wonder in Spike’s blue eyes and the beginning of a smile. “I know you aren’t afraid for yourself - you’re protecting me. No-one’s ever done anything like that for me before. It means a lot to me. And I’m glad you’re being careful. I don’t want to lose you.”

Spike kissed him, ignoring their awkward position, his lips moving hungrily over Xander’s, his thumbs stroking tenderly over Xander’s cheeks. “Love you too, Xander,” he said, when the kiss ended. “Have for a long time. Would die for you gladly, if I could be sure of taking Angelus with me.”

“Well, don’t,” Xander said sharply. “Live for me. That’s a much better way to show you love me.”

“Plan to, pet. Plan to live a long time.”

“Good.” Xander slid his arms down until they settled around Spike’s waist. He rested his head against Spike’s thigh, feeling Spike’s hand stroking his hair. They stayed that way contentedly for a long time, and Xander was almost sure he heard Spike purring.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Reluctantly tearing himself away from Xander, Spike waited until his boy was safely inside and went back to where the sole survivor of the four vampires who’d attacked them still lay near the tree, whimpering in pain and unable to move with her snapped spine. Hefting her over his shoulder, ignoring her scream, Spike carried her to Angelus’ lair. 

Stopping a short distance away, he fished out the pen and the note he’d written. He pinned it to the center of her back where she couldn’t reach it by the simple expedient of driving the pen through the note into her flesh, taking a vicious pleasure from her scream as he drove the pen in almost full-length. Gathering her up, he carried her the short distance to the edge of the mansion’s grounds and contemptuously tossed her helpless body where she was certain to be found by the guards Angelus kept around the grounds. 

Watching from a distance, he was pleased to hear the fear in the guards’ voices as they found the crippled body and read the note. The two guards that found her dragged her to the front door and pushed her inside. They held a short whispered conference that Spike couldn’t quite hear then walked off the grounds furtively, casting frightened looks behind them at the mansion as they scurried off. Satisfied, Spike watched them leave. It was obvious they had no intention of returning. Two more minions out of the picture. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hand-to-hand lessons with Spike had been fun but right now, Xander wanted a weapon that would let him take out opponents a little farther away from himself. He could have helped Spike when the four vampires attacked if he’d had one of Giles’ crossbows. Fear of getting Spike killed while trying to protect him had kept Xander near the tree more than anything else and it had both angered and embarrassed him to feel so helpless.

Giles had been surprisingly cooperative, nothing like the fuss he’d put up over his books, Xander thought in amusement. He’d set up a target on the school’s deserted tennis court and let Xander practice for an hour before school each morning. After three days, Xander was getting pretty good at farther and farther distances. The cast made him clumsy and slower than he should be to re-load but he’d worked at it until he could get a new bolt into the crossbow fairly quickly. Willow and Oz had joined him at his urging and both had picked up the basics fairly quickly. Well, Willow had picked up the basics. Oz was deadly accurate from almost his first attempt and had progressed rapidly to the small, one-handed model that was much harder to shoot accurately. Xander, stuck with the larger, less easy to hide version, envied him his quiet competence. Oz just joked that he wished learning to play the guitar had come half as easily to him. Oz was driving Willow back and forth from school and Xander was relieved to see him loading a couple of different crossbows into his van. Oz was as determined to protect Willow as Spike was to protect Xander.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Xander! Did you hear what happened last night? About Ms. Frank getting shot?”

“Yeah, I heard it on the news last night. It’s crazy, I mean, George has worked here forever.” Xander had taken to watching the news and reading the paper religiously, looking for stories about local deaths, trying to keep track of what Angelus was doing.

“Walk to the library with us, we need to talk to Giles. We think it’s a ghost.” Willow was obviously excited by the possibility.

“A ghost? Shooting someone? I thought they said the janitor did it?”

“Possessed,” Oz explained succinctly.

Xander was still reeling from that tidbit as he fell into step with them, heading for the library. Willow supplied the details as they walked down the hall.

“That’s right, we didn’t get a chance to fill you in. A couple of really weird things happened yesterday and Giles thinks it’s a ghost.” Talking quickly, Willow told him that Buffy had interrupted a similar shooting the night before and that a history teacher had apparently involuntarily written something strange on the blackboard - Xander had heard some kids joking about that - and finished by describing how an arm reached out of her locker and grabbed her. “I don’t know what would have happened if Buffy hadn’t gotten it off me. Then when we opened the locker again, it was gone!” she finished enthusiastically.

“Were you hurt?” Xander was surprised by how unfreaked Willow was.

Willow shook her head quickly. “No. I was scared to death at the time, but now it seems kind of cool in a really creepy way.”

“Anyone would have been scared,” Oz said, putting his arm around her. Xander smiled at him, thinking again how good he was for Willow.

Entering the library, they found Buffy already talking to Giles about the shooting. She shot a surprised look at Xander but otherwise ignored him. 

Giles simply glanced at them and nodded, finishing what he’d been saying. “The police, everybody, we searched high and low for the gun without finding it. I think it's very clear what's happening here. It’s Jenny.”

Surprisingly, Oz was the first to break the shocked silence. “You think she's the ghost?”

“Don't you see? She died here under tragic circumstances and now she's trapped.” 

“But what about the gun?” Willow objected. “I mean, Angel didn't shoot Ms. Calendar.”

“The gun is insignificant.” Giles waved a hand dismissively. “It's the violence of the thing that matters.” 

“I don't know.” Buffy said hesitantly. “The fights these couples keep having, it's sort of... specific.” 

“She's right. It's a pattern that doesn't fit with the way Ms. Calendar died.” Willow’s brow was furrowed as she exchanged helpless glances with Buffy. 

Giles was oblivious to their logic. “Yes, well, I appreciate your thoughts on the matter. In fact, I encourage you to always challenge me when you feel it's appropriate. You should never be cowed by authority. Except, of course, in this instance, when I am clearly right and you are clearly wrong.” 

That seemed to end his willingness to discuss the matter. He disappeared into his office, closing the door and the four just looked at each other and trailed uncertainly out of the library. Xander found himself following the other three to the computer classroom, which had become Willow’s home away from home as she spent most of her time on the computer, preparing for class or just reading Ms. Calendar’s Wicca stuff that she’d gotten really excited about.

“That was odd,” was Oz’s comment.

“It’s totally freaky. I don't ever remember ever seeing Giles be this weird,” Willow agreed. 

“He misses her. He can't think straight. Just…” she looked at Xander and Oz and didn’t finish. 

Willow squeezed her hand supportively. “Why don’t I go on the net and see what I can come up with?” 

They all perched on various surfaces and Willow had the answer in just a few minutes: a shooting at the school on the night of the Sadie Hawkins Dance in 1955. Xander asked Willow to print out the article for him while Buffy ran to fetch something she said they needed to see.

Reading the article, Xander could see the close parallels with the shooting last night and the one Buffy had apparently interrupted the night before, especially given the revival of the Sadie Hawkins Dance scheduled for that night. He folded the article up and stuck it in his pocket, then glanced at the clock. “Guys, I’m sorry but I’ve got something I have to do. I’ll meet you in the lunchroom and you can tell me what the plan of action is.”

He slipped out before Willow could protest and found an empty classroom. Re-reading the article, he wondered if it would be enough.

~~~~~~~

“Giles?” 

Xander debated with himself, then simply opened the door to the librarian’s office. He waited until Giles looked at him, obviously irritated and spoke quickly before Giles could order him out. “I’m sorry, but this is important. It won’t take long.”

“What is it, Xander?” Giles asked impatiently.

“I didn’t like you when I first met you,” Xander began bluntly, opening the door all the way and standing in the opening. As he’d hoped, Giles was startled by the flat statement and began to actually pay attention, settling back in his chair and looking up at Xander curiously. “Mostly it was because I didn’t like what you were telling me and I couldn’t accept it. Things have changed since then and I’ve come to respect you, even if I don’t always agree with you.”

“Thank you, Xander,” Giles began, obviously puzzled, but Xander lifted a hand to stop him.

“I need to tell you something now and I need you to really listen to me and think about what I’m saying. Because it’s something you don’t want to hear.” 

“Very well, what is it?”

“The ghost isn’t Ms. Calendar. I know you want it to be her and I don’t blame you but none of the things that are happening fit. The repeated shootings, the fights the couples are having, none of them fit with how Ms. Calendar died.”

He sighed as Giles looked away stubbornly. “Promise me you’ll at least consider other options.” He waited until Giles finally looked back at him and handed the librarian the article that Willow had printed out. Giles hesitated then reluctantly took it, glancing at the headline. Xander saw him start to read, saw his hands begin to tremble and slipped away, closing the door quietly behind him and leaving the librarian to his bitter grief.

He hoped he’d done the right thing, worried that it might have been kinder to leave Giles to his wishful thinking. Not ready to see anyone just yet, Xander went outside and sat down under his usual tree in the commons, wondering when telling someone their lover wasn’t the ghost haunting the school had become a bad thing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Xander.”

Xander looked up, startled, at the sound of Giles’ voice. The librarian stood awkwardly, almost fidgeting, as if he wasn’t sure what he intended to say. “Willow told me I would likely find you here.” Sighing, he surprised Xander further by sitting down beside him on the grass. “Thank you. It cannot have been easy for you to come and talk to me and I wanted you to know that your effort was not in vain.” He looked out across the campus, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes as if he was struggling to control tears. “You were quite right, all of you, it’s not Jenny doing these things. I’m afraid I was blinded by wishful thinking.”

Xander didn’t know how to respond. After a moment, he said hesitantly, “maybe it’s a good thing? I’d hate to think she wasn’t at peace.”

“Yes, that is how we should think of her.” After another long pause, the librarian’s shoulders straightened and he put his glasses back on. He looked over at Xander. “Shall we look into doing something about this ghost before someone gets hurt?”

Xander smiled and opened his mouth to answer when screaming interrupted him. Scrambling to their feet, both he and Giles stared as students came streaming out of the school, many screaming wildly and scattering in all directions. They exchanged a quick, worried glance and ran towards the source of the problem.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two hours later, Xander was still at the school. The school had been closed for the day and Animal Control was still rounding up the snakes that had appeared out of nowhere in the cafeteria. From the looks of things, Xander thought they might be there all night. The last of the ambulances had left - despite the panic, only two students had been bitten and neither by anything poisonous. 

They’d held a meeting about what to do and Willow had proposed an exorcism based on a ritual she’d found on one of Ms. Calendar’s web sites. Giles had just shaken his head at the sight of it and told Willow that it was an old and discredited spell that tended to be ineffectual. He told her that there were much stronger spells they could use and now they were waiting for Animal Control to tell them the school was snake free so Giles could access his books. 

Giles walked back to where Xander, Willow, Buffy and Oz were sitting on one of the picnic tables watching the Great Snake Round-Up, as Oz had dubbed it. Xander was relieved to see that Giles looked like his old self again, his grief once more tucked out of sight, although Xander had no doubt he still felt it. “They say it will be another couple of hours before they will allow me back inside the school. I suggest that all of you go home for the time being. Buffy, the ritual I would like to perform requires four people, would you, Willow and Oz be willing to return here tonight to assist me?”

All three nodded and Giles continued: “Good. Xander, when Spike arrives I will tell him you are at home and ask if he would mind patrolling tonight.” He hurried on before anyone could say anything, “I really feel that it would be safest if you did not participate in the exorcism. If you are involved, undoubtedly Spike will wish to stay with you. Because the spell we will use is intended to affect non-living energy, the presence of a vampire, who are non-living beings themselves, can interfere.”

Xander shot him a suspicious look but Giles seemed sincere. He wondered if Spike had said something to Giles about keeping Xander out of trouble or if a vampire really would interfere the spell. Either way, he wasn’t really sorry to miss the exorcism, Buffy had been making a lot of really biting comments about how James, the dead guy, deserved to rot in hell for what he’d done and Xander was pretty tired of hearing it.


	27. Chapter 27

In some ways, the best thing about having a vampire for a lover, Xander decided, snuggling comfortably into Spike, was the hours they kept. Spike and he could fool around for a couple of hours and Spike was still fine to go do his patrols through town afterwards. Xander didn’t even have to worry about Spike getting careless because he was tired. In a weird way, Xander almost got to sleep with his lover sometimes, because some nights Spike stayed until Xander was nodding off.

In other ways, it was the worst thing about having a vampire for a lover. Neither of them could completely adapt to the others’ hours. Xander had to be in school and couldn’t stay awake all night and Spike couldn’t exactly spend sunny afternoons playing frisbee, or whatever, with Xander. The fact that Spike was protecting Xander and didn’t want him out at night was making their current nightly separations a necessity. Looking ahead, Xander worried a little that Spike would not be content with the limitations of a human lover once things settled down, if they ever did on the Hellmouth. 

After the Great Snake Round-Up, Willow had reported that Giles’ exorcism spell had worked. There had apparently been a bit of a show: doors slamming, chairs being flung around and the ghost materializing as a half-decomposed corpse, as the ghost tried to fight back before the spell made it go poof, Willow’s description, but Giles was confident the ghost was gone and there hadn’t been any paranormal activity since. 

After the ghost thing, Xander had quizzed Spike about vampires and magic, wondering if Spike had told Giles to keep him out of things for Xander’s protection. Fortunately, Spike had confirmed that vampires and magic were un-mixy things. Some spells would work but any magic based in earth magic traditions didn’t work well, or sometimes at all, on or with vampires. 

“Undead, pet. Earth magic works by drawing on the power of the interconnectedness of living things. Vampires aren’t part of that network, so we make the spells go wonky. Can be right fun when some amateur witch doesn’t know that and doesn’t take it into account. Nothing like the looks on their faces when a spell they counted on suddenly fizzles out.” Spike grinned reminiscently and Xander made a mental note never to ask Spike about his experiences with fizzled spells. He suspected he wouldn’t like the answer.

Curiously, he asked: “But exorcisms? Are those earth magic? They don’t seem like they would be. I mean, an exorcism is basically killing a ghost and I thought earth magic was all touchy-feely, nice stuff.

“Don’t be fooled by New Age mystical shite, luv, earth magic is old. Sure it can be about cleansing and healing but it can get right down and dirty when the occasion calls for it. It’s roots go back to the days when demons were still struggling for control of the earth with humans. Think street fighter spells. Exorcisms are about banishing non-living things. Lots of demons got themselves ‘exorcised’ once upon a time.”

“Huh.” Pleased that Giles hadn’t just been covering when he’d asked Xander to stay away from the exorcism, Xander lay his head back down on Spike’s chest. It was still weird that he couldn’t hear a heartbeat but he as he’d gotten used to it, he’d stopped subconsciously trying to find it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike waited in the back of the library, listening as the librarian talked with the Slayer and the little red-haired girl, discussing options for handling the latest problem - some kind of beastie. Xander was there but not participating, deliberately sitting to one side and focusing his attention on a book he was reading. Spike was puzzled, not for the first time, over the relationship between Slayer and Watcher. He’d never had the opportunity to eavesdrop on conversations between a Watcher and their Slayer before but the relationship between this particular pair seemed off. 

The Watcher didn’t issue orders, he made suggestions and the Slayer seemed far more independent and willful than was typical. Spike hadn’t been able to decide where the difference in this pair lay: with the Slayer or the Watcher. Rupert Giles hardly seemed the ineffectual type despite the fact that he did a fair job of hiding the violence and ruthlessness that lay beneath his surface mannerisms, like a hidden vein of iron running through the core of his personality.

The Slayer had yet to truly accept her destiny, that was obvious to a blind man. Somehow, the normal Council indoctrination hadn’t worked with this one. She was still struggling against her fate in a way the Chosen Ones usually didn’t, in Spike’s experience. Buffy’s desperate striving for a “normal” life was her losing battle against her calling. That longing was usually trained out of potential Slayers long before they were called. 

Spike shrugged. Didn’t matter really, it was just habit that had him studying the Slayer, knowing that one day again they would be adversaries. One day soon, if she didn’t get her head out of her arse and focus on her job. He was beyond tired of her constant delays and excuses for not dealing with Angelus.

“So, what’s the excuse tonight?” he asked sarcastically, striding forward through the stacks. Xander looked up and flashed him a quick smile as Spike continued. “Let’s see, partying at the beach last night, The Bronze the night before, was it hair washing or toenail painting the night before that?” 

“If you don’t like the way I do my job, you can leave any time,” Buffy sniped back. 

“I don’t like the way you do your job. You don’t bloody do the job is the problem.”

“How about I start right now?” Buffy pulled out a stake and hefted it threateningly.

“Ok, things are getting a little hostile here,” Willow said nervously. “We’re all supposed to be working together, guys. So, no killing each other, ok?”

Spike snorted in disgust. “Thought we were supposed to be taking on Angelus. Trouble is there’s nothing being done about him.” 

“Sorry, Spike, we’ve got a different problem tonight,” Xander interjected, looking up from the book he was studying. He’d long since given up any notion that Buffy and Spike were ever going to get along, or even try to act civilized around each other. So long as things didn’t get out of hand, he didn’t bother interfering. Neither appreciated it when he did and it didn’t change anything. At least insulting each other so far seemed to blow off steam rather than building up tension between them. Fortunately, they were rarely in the same room for long. One or the other usually managed to leave quickly. 

Unfortunately, tonight Giles had asked Xander to stay on for a bit and help them research. Since he was the only one who’d seen the sea monster they were looking for, Giles wanted him available for confirmation in case they found any likely suspects in the books. Now that Spike had arrived, Xander briefly outlined the problem to him. Spike flopped down into the chair next to Xander, saying he was willing to watch them research for awhile. Xander silently slid part of his stack of books over to Spike and ignored Spike’s disbelieving stare, pointing out with a small, hopefully sexy smile that the faster they found what they were looking for, the faster they were on their way home. Spike grumbled but eventually picked up the books. “Sea monster, eh?” 

Xander gave him all the information they had, which didn’t take long: teeth, spines, ugly, ate its victims from the inside out. Spike perked up. “Eviscerates ’em, does it? Good on it. That’s always a messy bit of fun.” 

“Messy being the operative word,” was all Xander said, swallowing hard as nausea rose again at the memory. Spike shot him a concerned look and Xander smiled reassuringly. Satisfied, Spike settled down to leaf through the books. Xander was amused to see that Spike quickly became engrossed, reading some passages intently, instead of just flipping through the books.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Less than an hour later, Spike pushed his pile of books away. “Waste of time, ’s all this is, trying to identify something when you have so little information to go on. Only useful thing you know is that it smells bad enough to choke a pentranga demon. Use that to track it.”

“Would be nice if Xander could give us a decent description. Pity he was too busy screaming and running away to see anything,” Buffy snarked.

Xander’s hand clamped down on Spike’s arm as Spike jerked upright and the beginnings of a growl sounded. “I’m so sorry, Buffy,” he said with exaggerated contrition. “The next time I’m asked to describe something that jumped me out of nowhere in a dark room, while I was standing over the bloody remains of a fellow student trying not to spew the entire contents of my stomach, I’m sure I’ll do a better job.” Buffy had the grace to look somewhat abashed. “And by the way - you’re welcome. It’s always my pleasure to put my life on hold to help you do your job.”

Ok, he probably shouldn’t have added that bit. Buffy stiffened defensively, glaring at him, but before she could say anything, Spike’s amused voice was cheering him on. “You tell her, pet. Ungrateful trollop.”

Buffy’s chair screeched across the floor as she shoved it back and shot to her feet. Somehow, Willow had moved even faster and she was right by Buffy’s side, making soothing little gestures, her voice spilling into the combat zone between Spike and Buffy. “Ok, things getting a little tense again. We’re all tired. Why don’t we all take a break, maybe get some snacks, you know, something to lighten things up a bit?”

Buffy ignored her, but her tone moderated slightly in response to Willow’s peacemaking efforts. “I’m sick of you two complaining about how I do my job. If you don’t like how I do things, why don’t you let the door hit you in the ass on your way out.”

“Buffy, that’s enough.” Giles’ voice was stern. “We need Xander’s help with the current problem and he and Spike have been of considerable assistance in the last few weeks. They are welcome here at any time.”

Xander sent Giles a pleased smile at his inclusion of Spike. Out of consideration for both Giles and Willow, he made an effort to keep his voice even as he answered Buffy but he couldn’t let this go by without saying something. Spike was getting restless with the lack of action and Xander was afraid Spike was going to just give up on the whole working together thing and tackle Angelus himself. “I disagree with your priorities, Buffy. You know, the ones where you’re willing to kill every vampire in town except oh, say, the one whose causing the most trouble and doing the most harm.”

“Why don’t you try practicing what you preach? You make friends with the evil undead and then force the rest of us to put up with him.”

Without looking, Xander tightened his grip on Spike warningly, knowing Spike was going to add his two cents to the conversation. “I’m just saying: if any other vampire in town caused half this much trouble, you would have staked them weeks ago.” He let go of Spike’s arm and slapped the book he’d been looking through fruitlessly closed with unnecessary force. “Spike’s right, we’re wasting our time with this research. Giles, let me know if you find anything you need me to look at.” He stood up, feeling at a disadvantage with Buffy glaring down at him and wanting to get this out in the open. “I haven’t heard any plans recently for dealing with Angelus. Should I assume he’s no longer on the agenda?” he asked Buffy pointedly.

“Like you could do anything to help anyway,” Buffy scoffed.

“Xander, it’s not that simple.”

“It is that simple, Willow. Are we going to fight Angelus or not?”

“Gee, I’m sorry the monster that’s eating the swim team isn’t enough to hold your interest,” Buffy snarked.

“Boy’s right.” Spike was still slumped casually in his chair, turning pages, outwardly nonchalant, but Xander could feel his tense alertness as he followed the exchange. “’m not here to fight your monster of the week.”

“I didn’t ask you to come here in the first place. You came whining to us, remember?”

“Hey!” “Buffy!” “That’s enough!”

Giles’ shout overrode both Xander’s and Willow’s exclamations through sheer volume. “This kind of quarrelling isn’t accomplishing anything.” He ignored Spike’s muttered “nothing new there”, giving the vampire a warning glare as he continued. “We are going to have to deal with Angel sooner rather than later, I fear. However, we do have a rather urgent situation that simply must take priority right now. The lives of the boys on the swim team are in immediate danger. Once we have resolved this, we can tackle the situation with Angel. Agreed?” He looked sternly around the circle, gathering reluctant nods from everyone.

“Don’t have a problem hunting beasties, Watcher. Just don’t want it to be the be all, end all of our little alliance,” was all Spike said.

Xander gazed thoughtfully at Willow who, to his eyes at least, was looking decidedly guilty. Willow-type guilty, meaning uncomfortable and squirmy. Usually, that meant she was trying to keep a secret, something Willow had never been good at. Switching his perusal to Buffy, Xander decided that whatever was bothering Willow, it had to do with Buffy. Something was up and they weren’t sharing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Sorry, Spike. I didn’t really help tonight.” Walking home with Spike, Xander’s voice broke the silence that had fallen between them. Buffy was going to look for the sea monster during the early part of the night and Spike had promised to check the nearby beaches later on.

“Don’t talk daft, pet, got a commitment out of the Watcher, didn’t you? More than we’ve been able to get out of any of them before. ‘Sides, argument cleared the air, got some of the tension out.”

“I just want this over. I hate having to be on the look-out all the time. It’s one thing to be cautious about crossing the road. We’ve been playing in the middle of the freeway for a long time now.” He looked apologetically at Spike. “And my cast itches and I’m really cranky in general.”

Spike just laughed and threw his arm around him. “You aren’t cranky, luv. Maybe a little tetchy. Let me tell you about cranky.” Xander gratefully let Spike steer him home, listening as Spike described Darla, Angel’s Sire, on a raging tear because Drusilla had gotten a mad notion that Darla needed a pet. According to Spike, Dru’s idea of the perfect pet for Darla turned out to be a pregnant field mouse. Drusilla had forgotten about the mother until after she produced a dozen babies. The mice had done considerable damage to Darla’s delicate, lace-edged Victorian undergarments before they were discovered. Xander laughed at Spike’s description of a Master vampire holding up armfuls of tattered linen and shredded lace and screaming like a fishwife at the oblivious Dru. 

Spike left as soon as Xander was inside saying he was going to do a sweep through town since Buffy was off monster hunting. Xander hadn’t tried to talk him into staying. He was tired, the argument in the library had left him drained. The cast was scheduled to be removed in another week and hopefully losing that constant reminder of Angelus would help. Xander headed upstairs to bed, promising himself he was going to find out what Willow was hiding as soon as he could get her alone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“We may have found a way to restore Angel’s soul.”

Xander’s jaw dropped. “Are you crazy?”

He’d cornered Willow after her computer class and discovered that he hadn’t lost his touch. Shutting the door after her last student left the room, giving them a chance to talk alone, it had only taken a couple of minutes to get her to spill what she’d been hiding. What she’d said was so different from anything he’d even considered she might be hiding, he was almost speechless with shock.

Willow had found a computer disc with some files Ms. Calendar had been working on just before she died. The disc contained a spell for restoring souls. Somehow, Ms. Calendar had found a way to recreate the original spell her people had used to curse Angel. 

“I’ve spent a lot of time studying it, Xander,” Willow said earnestly. “I really think I can do it.”

Xander collected his wits and got a firm grip on his outrage. “Who else knows about this?” he asked with feigned calm. 

“Just Buffy,” Willow admitted. She looked relieved now that the secret was out. Funny how some things remained the same while others changed past recognition - despite all the other changes, Willow still couldn’t keep secrets. “She’s telling Giles now, I’m supposed to be at the library with her. We would have told Giles this morning, except he had an appointment at the museum.”

“I guess Spike pushing Buffy to do something about Angel moved up your timetable a bit.” Xander couldn’t keep the hint of cynicism out of his voice.

“Well, yes. But only because there won’t need to be a fight, if this works.” Willow looked both pleading, hopeful… and excited, Xander realized. Willow wanted to try the spell. Xander still knew almost nothing about magic and liked it that way. It was worrying how much Willow was diving into witchcraft stuff lately. “If Angel can have his soul restored, then everything will be back the way it used to be.”

Xander bit back the retort that the spell wasn’t going to do anything for Ms. Calendar. He knew Willow hadn’t meant that but it still jolted him that she thought for one second that everything would be fine once Angel had his soul again. Was she really that naïve or just willfully blind? In the end, all he said was: “Come on, let’s go talk to Giles.”

“Uh, Xander, are you sure that’s a good idea? You and Buffy don’t exactly see eye to eye on Angel.”

“If you guys are planning on re-souling him, I need to know.”

Xander left the computer classroom, headed for the library, leaving Willow with no choice but to follow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you people crazy?” Xander yelled furiously, bursting into the library, Willow trailing behind him. 

Ok, he didn’t actually do that, but he sure as hell thought about saying it on the short walk to the library. Ultimately, he decided to try and hang on to his temper because yelling wasn’t going to accomplish anything. Marshalling his arguments, Xander opened the door to the library and managed to walk in calmly. Western gunfighter music may have been playing in his head but he didn’t think his anger showed as he entered. “Hi guys, what’s up?” he asked brightly.

“Xander, I’m afraid we’re rather busy…” Giles’ voice was not welcoming. His glasses were off and he was polishing them furiously. It was obvious that Buffy and Giles were in the middle of an argument.

Xander interrupted. “Willow says you guys want to restore Angel’s soul. Is that true?”

“Why is that any of your business?” Buffy frowned at him.

“Because I’m making it my business. Just think of me as the guy trying to take keys away from a drunk. I’m just a bystander trying to stop a train wreck.”

“And how are you going to do that?” Buffy’s eyes were red-rimmed as if she’d been crying but her voice was flat and just on the safe side of rude.

“By trying to convince you that you are all crazy people.”

“Xander, why do you have such a problem with this? Angel getting his soul back would be a good thing.”

Xander took a deep breath, lining his arguments up neatly, hoping they would listen to him. He looked at Willow and deliberately picked a starting point. “Where’s Angel’s soul now?”

“What?” That came from both Buffy and Willow, complete bafflement in their voices. Damnit, they’d never even thought about this.

“Angel’s soul,” Xander repeated. “Where is it?”

“Obviously we cannot know that, Xander. Why are you asking?” Not even Giles seemed to know where he was going. Well, at least he’d gotten them off balance enough to listen.

“Has it occurred to any of you that his soul might be in heaven? If it is, do you really have the right to drag it back to earth? Would he even want you to?”

Willow’s face went white but Buffy glared at Xander. “What if his soul’s in hell? Maybe we can rescue him from that.”

“Why would his soul be in hell? You keep telling me what a good guy he is.” Xander sighed in frustration as Buffy looked unconvinced. Worse, she looked stubborn and Xander was afraid that she simply didn’t want to hear anything that opposed her goal. “All I’m saying is that Angel has supposedly spent years working for redemption. What if he’s earned it? Are you going to take him away from the thing he’s been working towards?”

“Angel would want his soul restored, he’d want to be back with me, to atone for what he’s done in the last couple of months,” Buffy was adamant.

“You’re pretty arrogant with the disposition of other people’s lives,” Xander snapped. 

“Obviously, we have no way of knowing where his soul is. Having been banished by mystical forces it could, literally, be almost anywhere.” Giles said slowly and Xander was pleased that he, at least, looked troubled by the question. “Is that your only objection?”

“No.” Xander hesitated, that had probably been his biggest gun and it hadn’t really swayed them at all. His other reasons were personal and probably a waste of time even raising.

“I don’t care what your problems are.” Buffy jumped up and walked away from them. Guilt sounded loudly in her voice. “If we can fix this, we have to try. What happened to Angel wasn’t his fault.”

“Since when do you care about that?” Xander asked incredulously. Buffy just looked irritated and suddenly months of pent-up anger spilled out. “You stake vampires practically every night. Are you saying it was Teresa’s fault that Angel killed her? Or Mr. Jorgensen from the grocery store? It wasn’t their fault they got turned into vampires but you killed them anyway. I didn’t see you commiserating with them and offering to let them live until you could conjure up a soul for them. If you only staked the ones who wanted to become vampires, my guess is you’d have been out of a job a long time ago.”

“That’s different.”

“How? How is it different? Angel didn’t want to lose his soul but he did. Now he’s just like any other vampire. Worse, because he’s stronger and crueler than most vampires.”

“You’re prejudiced. You’ve never liked him.” Buffy said defensively.

“You got that right. Doesn’t mean I’m wrong. Way I hear it, Angel never asked to have his soul restored in the first place. How come he gets the credit for that?”

“Angel’s saved all of our lives. He doesn’t deserve to be killed for something that wasn’t his fault. Not if there’s another option.”

“You know, I said almost that exact same thing about Jesse - that there were other options - and you all shouted me down. Just let me say, not loving the hypocrisy here.”

“Jesse?” Buffy asked impatiently.

“Buffy! Our friend Jesse, he was killed during the Harvest.” Willow’s voice rose as she stared at Buffy in shock.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Buffy bit her lip, looking regretfully at her. “You never talk about him and I’d forgotten his name.”

Willow’s eyes filled with tears and she looked away. “It’s ok, you never really knew him,” she said quietly. 

Xander still had his arms crossed stubbornly not willing to drop this without getting some kind of answer. “So explain to me the difference between what’s happening with Angel and what happened to my best friend. ‘Cause I sure as hell don’t see a difference.”

Giles had remained uncharacteristically silent but now he spoke before either Buffy or Willow could answer. “It’s not even remotely possible to restore the soul of every person killed and turned into a vampire. Angel is a unique case because of the original curse. If his soul can be restored now, and it appears that may have been Jenny’s last wish, then he can once again become a force for good.” The anger lingering in Giles’ eyes gave the lie to his seeming acceptance of the idea, but it was obvious he was seriously considering the re-souling idea.

“So, you’re just going to let him run amok until you find out if you can restore him to the completely unnatural state of being a dead man with his soul shoved back into his corpse?” Xander asked in disbelief. “You guys are supposed to be the good guys. How can you justify letting a known murderer continue killing while you tinker around with a spell that will tear someone’s soul out of whatever peace it has managed to find, so that he will then know and remember every evil thing his body has been doing? The fucking soul restoration was a curse, not a gift.” Throwing his arms up in disgust, Xander abandoned the argument, knowing he was losing both the argument and the last remnants of his temper. Storming out of the library, he gave up any idea of ever making any of them see reason. 

“Xander!”

He stopped automatically at Willow’s call, standing with his head down, not turning back to look at her, angry with himself for stopping.

“That wasn’t fair, using Jesse as an example like that.” Her voice was hurt and accusing and she sounded on the edge of tears, “What happened to Jesse wasn’t the same as what’s going on now and you know it.”

Xander turned to face her, his face livid with anger. “No, Willow, it’s exactly the same. The only difference I see is that Buffy cared about Angel and wants her boyfriend back. Well, I loved Jesse and when I tried to convince you that I could reach him, you all told me he was a vampire and had to be staked. No other choice.” His voice broke but he plunged on. “Now that it’s someone that Buffy loves, suddenly there are options. You can stand by Buffy all you want to, but don’t try and sell me on the idea that this is any different than it was with Jesse. Buffy isn’t the vampire re-souler, she’s the vampire Slayer. When she starts picking and choosing which vampires she slays, that just makes her a murderer.”

“You didn’t complain when it worked for Spike.” 

“No, I didn’t. And I plan to give you three the same support about not killing Angel as you all gave me about Spike. Tell me, Willow, how many pages in the Watcher’s diaries about Angel did you copy for Buffy to read?”

“Damnit, Xander,” Willow rarely swore and it showed how frustrated she was. “Buffy’s only 17 and she just lost the only man she’s ever loved and you’re dumping on her because she can’t bring herself to stake the part of him that’s left. Can’t you just back off? This is hard for her.”

“I was only 16 when I staked my best friend. Don’t talk to me about hard.”

Willow’s face went white and she stepped back in shock. “You staked Jesse?” she asked, horrified. “Oh my god, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because when I tried to tell you, you said you were glad he was dead.” Xander’s voice was flat and hard, despite the tears that stung his eyes.

“Not Jesse! The vampire that killed him,” Willow protested. She was practically wringing her hands in anguish but her tears left him unmoved.

“Well, according to all of you, Angel’s just the demon that killed the person who lived in that body once. And I am not ready to just forgive and forget what he did to me and especially not what he did to Ms. Calendar, Teresa, and everyone else he’s killed while his soul was on vacation.” Xander spun around and walked away before Willow could tell him again how it was different with Angel. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that morning, Xander quietly slipped into the gym storage lockers. Rifling around, he came up with a couple of large bags usually used to carry gym equipment out to the fields. He folded them up and draped his coat casually over them and headed for the library. 

Waiting out of sight until Giles left for lunch, Xander barely waited for Giles to move down the hall before entered the library behind him and immediately crossing to the book cage. Picking the familiar lock easily, he entered the small room and dropped the gym bags on the floor. He took three crossbows of varying sizes first, and stuffed them into one of the bags along with a large selection of bolts. Studying the remaining weapons, he picked out a couple of axes and several knives. Closing the bags, he pushed them out of the cage, closing the door behind him and checking to be sure the lock had caught. 

Swinging both bags over his shoulder, he carried them up through the stacks to the entrance to the tunnels. Less than ten minutes after he’d entered, Xander left the library again, having stashed the weapons a short distance inside the tunnels. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Xander waited for Spike near the entrance to the tunnels, instead of at the library table as was his usual habit. He’d given Giles a brief greeting and told him he was leaving as soon as Spike arrived. 

Giles still looked troubled from the earlier confrontation and Xander kept his eyes firmly off the book cage. “Just let me know when Spike arrives, so that I’ll know you are safe,” was all Giles said.

Xander nodded and headed out of sight to the back to library. He was not going to sit around making small talk with Buffy and Willow while anger still churned inside him from earlier. 

When Spike arrived, Xander had him wait while he told Giles, then he told Spike quietly they needed to leave by the tunnels tonight. Spike cocked his head curiously, but just shrugged and led the way. 

Once inside, Xander pulled Spike over to where the bags of weapons were stashed.

“What’s this, pet?”

Xander knelt and unzipped one of the bags, seeing Spike’s interest as the pile of weapons inside was revealed. “They’re not going to do anything about Angelus,” he said bitterly. “We’re going to have to take him out ourselves.”


	28. Chapter 28

Spike looked into the bag, seeing the gleam as the fitful light of the tunnels slid along the metal blades of the axes and knives inside. Looking back up at Xander, the same polished steel seemed reflected in the anger and determination in his eyes. Something had happened but the tunnels weren’t a safe place to linger. “Right, pet. Let's go somewhere we can talk.”

Spike picked up the second bag as Xander zipped the first bag closed and slung it over his shoulder, waiting for Spike to lead the way. Hefting his bag, Spike felt the unbalanced weight and unmistakable shape of crossbows. He didn’t say anything, just turned and started walking through the tunnels towards the nearest surface access. For now, he tucked his curiosity away, focusing on their route and checking for any sign of enemies. 

Xander followed him silently as Spike led him to one of the town’s smaller cemeteries, winding his way through the gravesites until he reached one particular crypt. Spike had Xander wait as he followed his nightly routine, checking the crypt for any signs of intruders. He was still shifting crypts nightly, never spending more than two nights in the same place and his caution had so far paid off. No one in town knew where he was staying and until this war was over, he needed it to stay that way. 

The crypt was dark and still and there were no foreign smells, just the faint odor of ancient bones and dust and rotting cloth. Satisfied, he signaled for Xander to follow him inside, carefully closing the door behind them. For Xander’s sake, Spike dug out a couple of candle stubs and set about lighting them and placing them in wall niches, where their light would do the most good. 

Finished, he turned back and saw Xander studying the bare walls and dank stones. “You live here?” 

Spike grinned at the appalled tone in Xander’s voice. “Just temporary, pet. Like my comforts as much as the next vampire but I need to keep a low profile for now.”

“I’m sorry, Spike, I didn’t know crypts where this…well, awful.”

“Not that bad.” Spike looked around judiciously. “Believe me, I’ve had worse.” Spike shrugged. “Be moving on tomorrow, so it doesn’t matter.” Dropping the bag he was carrying into the corner, he perched on one of the pair of stone tombs and cocked his head inquiringly. “What’s happening?”

Xander sat down on the marble next to Spike. “Buffy and Willow are working on re-souling Angel,” he began without preamble.

The unexpectedness of it took Spike’s non-existent breath away and for one second he gaped disbelievingly at Xander. Then rage crashed over him like a tidal wave and he felt his face shift as his demon came to the fore. “How dare they? I'll kill every last one of them! I’ll tear them to pieces and scatter the bits over three counties!”

Spike jumped up, unable to remain still and began pacing the length of the crypt, swearing and describing the many and varied ways he would make them suffer eternal torments for their audacity. Vaguely he was aware of Xander’s astonished confusion but it was all he could do for the moment not to start tearing the very stones of the crypt apart to vent his fury and he couldn’t reassure the boy now. 

Endless minutes later, Spike finally purged his anger enough to regain control. His eyes swung to Xander who had remained seated on the crypt, waiting out the storm. 

“So… I take it you’re not in favor of the idea either?” Xander ventured. When Spike simply glared at him speechlessly with yellow-eyed outrage, beginning to pace again, Xander continued hesitantly, “I mean, I didn’t expect you to be happy about it but your reaction is a bit more over-the-top than I was expecting.”

Spike finally regained coherent speech. “Do you understand what that curse means to a vampire?”

“I thought I did but now I’m kind of guessing I don’t.”

“Putting a soul in a vampire is… unnatural.” Spike said inadequately, unable to find the words to describe the horror of it. He sighed and shook his head sharply, forcing back his demonic features and taking a firm grip on his temper. “Vampires aren’t meant to have human souls, Xander. ‘S like…well, can’t really think of a comparison. Maybe like… grafting an animal’s head onto a human’s body.” Spike could see the image clearly in his mind: an ape’s head protruding from the shoulders of a human body next to the original, the two heads quarreling and snapping at each other, but he could see from Xander’s expression that he didn’t understand. Still struggling for the words to explain, he asked: “How much do you know about what happened to Angelus?”

“Same as everyone - he was cursed by gypsies, who restored his soul. They put some sort of condition on the curse that if he ever felt a moment’s true happiness, he would lose his soul again.” Xander shrugged. “It doesn’t make any sense really but that’s supposedly what they did.”

“Makes some sense when you consider that the gypsies wanted Angelus to suffer. They didn’t care about what he did with his suffering, whether he repented, went mad, kept killing, or whatever. And Angelus did most of them in turn.” Spike sighed and sat down on the tomb again, his anger finally under control. Not gone. No, those blighters would know his wrath, but banked for now, the coals just waiting to be fanned into the flames that would burn the ones who sought to re-visit that horror on his Sire.

“But why didn’t they make the soul permanent? That’s the part I don’t get.”

“Dunno for sure, luv.” Spike had had decades to think about his Sire’s curse and he’d thought about it a lot, especially in those early days when Drusilla would weep and tear her hair over the loss of her ‘Daddy’. Even though he hadn’t known then that there was a way to break the curse, some of what he’d figured out made sense in hindsight. “Suspect they just couldn’t stand the idea of their victim ever getting over what they’d done to him. Probably meant to keep an eye on the situation and put a stop to anything that might make Angelus happy. If so, then they didn’t realize that Angelus had a family.” Torches and screams and canvas-topped trailers burning in the night; fear and blood and vengeance brought home to roost. Every last one had suffered and died. Their families had paid tenfold for what they had done to his family.

“Darla brought me and Dru and tried to blackmail the camp into reversing what they’d done. Darla may have been a right bitch but she did care for Angelus. Only Dru and I got a bit carried away and killed the hostages before Darla could get them to fix things.” He shrugged, he’d been very young then and had gotten carried away in the thrill of the slaughter.

Remembering his audience, he looked over at Xander, afraid of the disgust and rejection the mortal must be feeling, but Xander was just shaking his head in puzzlement. “Some warning that he could lose the soul again sure would have been nice. If Buffy had known about the happiness clause, I like to think she wouldn’t have hopped into bed with Angel.” 

Relieved, Spike remembered that Xander had read about the slaughter of the gypsy encampment in Spike’s history and felt a surge of wonder that Xander knew the worst he’d done and still loved him. “Water under the bridge, luv. Point of this little history lesson is that nothing good was ever supposed to come of the curse - ‘cept Angelus suffering eternally, o’ course.” Spike could actually appreciate that part of the gypsies’ handiwork. It was their methods he had a problem with, not the goal. Eternal suffering for a hated enemy? Spike could understand and get behind that.

“Do you want to kill him?”

Xander’s troubled question astonished him. “Course I do, what kind of question is that?” Spike asked, almost offended that his boy would question Spike’s desire to avenge him.

“But you've just been saying.…”

Spike sighed. It was a demon thing and he wasn't sure a human would understand. “I want to kill him, yeah. Torture him, if I get the chance - he’s more than earned it. But I won’t be party to sticking that soul back in him.” Spike actually shuddered at the thought. “Just bloody unnatural, like I said. I wouldn’t do that to any vampire, especially not my Sire.”

“Oh.” Xander looked thoughtful and Spike hoped he understood. There were times when he longed for the simplicity of his days with Drusilla. She may have been as mad as the proverbial hatter but she was a demon and didn’t need to have things like this explained to her. No long-winded conversations about why a bunch of white hats couldn’t re-soul their Sire with him and Dru. They’d have simply killed the humans and by now Dru would be playing marbles with their eyeballs and that would be that. Spike looked away, lost in memories of his Dark Princess, a reminiscent smile curving his lips. 

Pulling himself back to the present, he looked at Xander. “Know it's not what you want, luv. But I’ll kill them before I let ‘em do that to him again.”

Spike was relieved when Xander just nodded, looking grim. “Then we better figure out how to kill him, Spike, because while I don’t agree with what they’re planning, I really don’t want you to kill them.”

“Fair enough.” Spike thought back to the beginning of the conversation. “Got a bit testy there for awhile, pet, and didn’t give you a chance to finish. What’s our timetable?”  
Xander looked hesitant and Spike clarified: “Is the spell some pie in the sky thing or are they close to actually working it?” 

“They think they’ve found the original spell but that’s about it. Buffy and Willow told Giles about the spell this morning.”

Spike considered that. “Watcher’s smart enough not to jump into things. He’ll want to study the spell a bit and something like that is bound to have a few exotic ingredients.” Although he preferred not mixing with magic, Spike knew a fair bit about it, came with the territory after all. “So, figure we’ve got a day minimum. More like two or three.”

He looked at Xander: brave, scared, not a fighter by nature, still recovering from the injuries Angelus had inflicted and yet willing to go up against him armed only with his small skill and his boundless courage, for Spike had no doubt whatsoever that Xander intended to be in the thick of this fight. Spike felt his heart swell with love and fear for this young, fragile mortal he had fallen in love with against his every inclination. He wished he could keep Xander out of it, hide him somewhere far outside of town, take him away from the coming battle, but it would be a waste of time to try and a betrayal that Xander wouldn’t forgive.

“I’ll get you home, luv, then scout out around the mansion. Tomorrow, see if you can find out anything about their plans for the spell. If you’re up for a bit of no good, you could see about destroying anything you can get your hands on that’s critical to the spell. Could buy us time if we need it.” Spike cocked an eyebrow at Xander and grinned when Xander nodded in agreement. Boy was coming along fine in the evil department.

“So, tomorrow - what? We charge the mansion? Stealth job?”

“Going all John Wayne on me, are you?” Spike asked, amused.

Xander flushed but didn’t back down. “Just want to know what the plan is.” 

Spike had been considering battle strategies since he’d first gone to the Watcher asking for an alliance against Angelus. He needed to revise those tentative plans on the fly now because they’d all involved him having back-up from the Slayer. Xander was far from useless in a fight but he was an ordinary human without any extra strength or skills and he still had only one useful hand. While Spike had been happy to make plans that put the Slayer in harm’s way, he wasn’t going to take the same chances with Xander and that called for careful consideration. His usual style was simply to charge in to situations, knowing he could take care of himself and only rarely worried about anyone else. Knowing Xander would insist on being involved was making him unwontedly cautious and Spike found himself temporizing, stalling for more time as he answered.

“Need to see the lay of the land tonight. Angelus had five or six minions left at last count. Need to see if they’re still staying close to the mansion or if he’s made any more. If nothing’s changed, a frontal assault’s a possibility.” Spike considered that idea under the changed circumstances. “He’s been keeping a couple minions outside, guarding the mansion. If I take them out first and we go in, armed with the crossbows you brought…” Spike tried to picture the battle in his head as he talked it through. “If we’re lucky and the outside guards can’t raise the alarm, then we may be able to take out the minions inside without much trouble. That leaves me and Angelus mixing it up, with you watching my back.” Walking through it like this, Spike was beginning to think it could actually work. Xander staying in the background while Spike and Angelus fought, Xander keeping a lookout for any stray minions who were missed in the initial rush. If Spike armed himself with one of the axes, he could keep Angelus from closing on him and prevent his Sire from using his greater height and weight to advantage. 

Spike jumped off the tomb and crossed to the two bags of weapons. Opening them, he began pulling out first the crossbows then the axes and knives from the second bag. Choosing a medium weight ax with a plain, serviceable handle, Spike swung it experimentally, spinning it in his hand to test the balance. It almost sang in his hand as it split the air, making a small whirring noise as it spun, perfectly balanced and a joy to his demon heart. Bringing it close, he inspected the blade. “These from the Watcher?” he asked. 

“Yeah, I raided his weapons stash.” Xander joined him as Spike crouched to inspect the rest of the weapons.

“Good on you, luv. Remind me to compliment him, this is a beauty.”

Xander shrugged. “I figure, in a pinch, anyone can swing an axe. Or a knife. With luck, Giles won’t notice them missing for a day or two.” 

“Good choices. Always best to keep it simple with weapons. How’s your crossbow work coming?” Spike had been pleased when Xander told him he’d begun practicing with the crossbow. Anything that helped his boy to defend himself was good in Spike’s book. 

“My aim’s getting pretty good but that’s target practice. I don’t know about the real thing with a moving target and I’m still slow re-loading.” He lifted the cast in explanation. Xander tended to downplay his skills a bit but he was realistic about his limitations, something Spike appreciated as it made Xander more cautious and more likely to live than some braggart who overestimated their skills.

Spike looked at him, eyes narrowed in thought. “Tomorrow, I want you to load up on holy water and crosses. Try the magic shop.” Spike reached inside his duster and pulled out a small wad of bills, handing them to Xander. “Try and get the holy water in small bottles, something you can throw easily. Get as many as you can carry without it weighing you down.” Spike grinned. “Nothing like exploding glass and holy water to put vampires off their game.”

Xander looked a little queasy but pocketed the money, which Spike took as agreement. “Xander,” he said seriously. “Holy water burns but it doesn’t kill. If you need to, you throw it, even if it’ll hit me too.” Xander opened his mouth to object but Spike stared him down. “Mean it, luv. I’d rather I got a bit of a splash than have you not throw it when you needed to.” Xander closed his mouth and reluctantly nodded. Worried about how quiet he’d gotten, Spike gave him a cheeky grin. “Mind you, I rather not get splashed if you can avoid it. Makes horrible red patches, it does and I’d hate to mess up my looks.”

He was disappointed when Xander just gave him a shaky smile. It was obvious the boy was getting nervous about the upcoming fight. “Come here, luv.” He held out his arm and hugged Xander hard as the boy moved towards him. “Be all right, Xander. Angelus doesn’t stand a chance against us.”

Xander clung to him for a minute, then pulled away. Crossing the small space, he stood for a moment facing the wall, apparently steeling himself for something. Spike watched him worriedly as Xander swung around abruptly.

“I want you to do something for me, Spike,” he said, sounding determined.

“Anything I can, pet.”

“I want you to mark me. If we’re going to fight Angelus tomorrow, I want you to mark me tonight.”

Spike stared at him speechlessly and Xander crossed his arms stubbornly, like he was afraid Spike was about to refuse - the last thing on Spike’s mind actually, but the sudden request had knocked him off balance. “I’m not an idiot, Spike. I know we could both be killed, but I’m not willing to let Angelus continue to run around killing people because Buffy won’t do her job. Not without trying to do something about it. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to die with his mark on me.”

Xander stared at Spike, then suddenly dropped his eyes, looking down as his whole stance sagged. “When this is over, if we’re alive, you don’t have to renew it, you know. I just don’t want his mark on me when we go up against him.”

Spike’s growl stopped him and he flicked a quick glance up at the vampire. His surprised look caught and froze as Spike glared at him in demon face. “Don’t ever want to hear you talk that way about yourself again, pet,” Spike ordered. “I’ll mark you and it’ll be a proper mark. And it’ll be renewed.”

Xander smiled and then it faded and he looked uncertain again. “So, how does it work, do you just…?” he gestured vaguely and Spike rolled his eyes.

“Not feeding from you, luv. I’m marking you.” Spike stripped off his duster and laid it on the tomb, spreading it out as a makeshift blanket. “Come ‘ere.” Xander crossed to the tomb and Spike took him in his arms, burying his face in Xander’s neck and opening all his senses to his boy. He could feel Xander’s pulse through the tanned skin, faster than normal but not racing. Xander smelled of excitement and nervousness and the beginnings of arousal. 

After a long moment, Spike pulled back and lifted Xander up, sitting him on the tomb. Pulling his head down, Spike kissed him hard, tangling his hands in the dark hair and feeling Xander’s mouth open beneath his. It was the first time he’d kissed Xander in his true face and he let Xander’s tongue explore the differences, dancing over the changed contours, swirling around the fangs, testing their sharpness against the tip of his tongue. Xander’s tongue grow bolder, until it pressed against a fang hard enough to draw blood. The taste exploded in Spike’s mouth and he moaned, sucking hard on Xander’s tongue, drawing the few drops to the surface and reveling in the rich warmth of blood freely offered. 

Standing between Xander’s legs, Spike pressed closer, feeling Xander’s erection against his stomach. Xander’s parted legs were around Spike’s hips, the tomb was too tall for this, Spike thought in annoyance. He pushed Xander backwards, climbing up after him, until they were lying on the top slab, the familiar smell of his duster surrounding them and masking the other smells from the crypt. Xander stopped him as Spike moved to lay full length on top of him, aiming to kiss him again. Looking up from where he lay on the black leather, Xander lifted his good hand and explored Spike’s true face, tracing his fingers along the ridges, discovering their exquisite sensitivity as Spike shivered and pushed into the gentle touch. With his demon vision, the dim light was no barrier and Spike saw only curiosity and interest in Xander’s eyes, no rejection as he traced the altered lines of Spike’s true countenance.

“Alexander Harris,” he asked with old-fashioned formality. “Do you accept the mark of William the Bloody of the Clan Aurelius?” It wasn’t necessary, no ritual was required to mark a human, but Spike wanted his marking of Xander to be different in every way from what Angelus had done.

Xander smiled at him. “Yes,” he said simply. 

For a long moment, Spike just smiled back at him, amazed by the way Xander’s smile lit up his face, like Spike had given him a longed for treasure. Reaching up, he stroked Xander’s face, running his thumb over his lips, wanting to hold onto that smile somehow. He was almost disappointed when Xander turned his head and kissed Spike’s palm.

Xander put his arms up, being careful of the cast, and pulled Spike’s head down for a kiss. Kissing him back enthusiastically, Spike put his own hands to good use, deftly unfastening Xander’s shirt and exposing the expanse of his chest to the cool air. Pulling back from Xander’s lips, he dropped his head and began kissing and licking along the smooth skin, homing in on the flat, brown nipples. Reaching his goal, his tongue circled teasingly around one nub before laving over the hardening peak. Xander’s hand closed in his hair, holding Spike’s head against himself as his back arched into the sensation. 

Spike chuckled at the response and switched to the other side, lapping and sucking until the second nipple tightened to match the first. Xander was rocking his hips up to meet Spike’s, his good hand clutching Spike’s shoulders, the casted arm circling Spike’s back, tiny moans escaping his lips. Spike lifted up slightly, still licking and nibbling at the tight brown peaks, and unfastened Xander’s pants, pushing them down below his hips and out of the way.

Kissing his way down Xander’s body, Spike followed the thin line of hair to his groin. He buried his nose in the dark, wiry curls, inhaling deeply, smelling the intense odors at the core of the body: the sharp tang of arousal, the slightly bitter smell of pre-cum, and the overall smell of Xander: a complex spicy scent, always flavored by the emotions the boy felt so strongly. 

Spike ran his tongue the length of Xander’s penis, thoroughly enjoying the gasp of shock and the way Xander’s hips jerked up. Spike grinned and, taking a firm hold on the boy’s hips, wrapped his lips around the shaft, taking the head into his mouth, his tongue toying with the slit, tasting the drops of pre-cum. Xander cried out, his hips thrusting against Spike’s hold, his body arcing up from the marble slab.

“Spike!”

Still holding Xander’s hips still, Spike swirled his tongue around the head, feeling Xander’s body stiffen and - 

“No!” Xander protested as Spike lifted his head and pinched the vein at the base of Xander’s penis, stopping the imminent orgasm in its tracks. Xander writhed underneath him, desperately thrusting up, wanting touch, needing release. “Damn it, Spike.”

“Soon, luv,” Spike soothed, sliding up and kissing him. He wrapped his hand around Xander’s erection and began pumping gently. “Ready?” he asked, his golden eyes holding Xander’s in the flickering light from the dying candles. 

“Yes! Do it, Spike.”

“Love you, Xander.” Spike bent his head, his senses extended, monitoring Xander as his hand picked up speed, bringing Xander back to the brink. As Xander’s body tensed, his hips thrusting up into Spike’s hand, Spike sank his teeth into the exact spot Angelus had marked, his bite overlying and obliterating Angelus’.

Blood filled his mouth as he drank, Xander’s cry of pleasure ringing in his ears. As the taste, scent, sound and feel of his boy filled Spike’s senses, he humped frantically against Xander’s leg, his own orgasm roaring through him as Xander’s seed spurted over his hand. Reluctantly, he withdrew his fangs, lapping at the mark, his mark, cleaning the last traces of blood from the teeth marks that now forever proclaimed Xander as his property.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I need to speak to Xander Harris for a moment.”

Xander was startled out of his daydream at the sound of his name. He’d fallen asleep on top of the crypt last night, his limbs tangled with Spike’s. Spike had woken him up a couple hours later and taken him home. He’d only gotten a few hours sleep total and was both tired and stiff this morning. How vampires slept on top of crypts, he couldn’t imagine. After only a couple hours on one, he ached worse than after an entire night sleeping on the floor. It must be the stone that made them so uncomfortable.

He hadn’t been able to get any sleep at his house after Spike had left. Between worry about the upcoming fight, mooning like a girl with her first hickey over Spike’s mark on his neck, and ecstatically re-living the previous night’s blow job, he’d had too much on his mind to fall asleep. That, plus the huge dose of guilt when he realized he hadn’t done anything in return to Spike after Spike had given Xander the best orgasm of his life. Talk about selfish. He’d been a total guy about it - just rolled over and fallen asleep after he got his end off. Or at least a total guy according to the quizzes in Willow’s Cosmo magazines that she used to inflict on Jesse and him. He would have to make it up to Spike as soon as he saw him again. 

He’d dressed carefully for school, making sure he wore something that hid the fresh mark. What he really wanted to do was flaunt it. It was Spike’s mark and he was proud to wear it, but it wouldn’t help him to find out more information about the re-souling spell if everyone was busy lecturing him about letting vampires bite him.

Now he looked up from the open text book he’d been using to hide the fact that he’d been nearly asleep at the sound of Giles’ voice at the classroom door. He glanced at the history teacher, who gestured permission, and made his way forward through the desks towards the door. 

Giles stepped out into the hallway and Xander followed, closing the door quietly behind him. “What’s up?” he asked.

“Something’s come up and I need to speak with you. I’m sorry about your class but I’m afraid it can’t wait.”

Xander followed him as he lead the way to the library, asking quickly, “is everyone all right?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes, sorry. Everyone is fine. After the argument yesterday, I wanted to talk to you alone.”

“Are you going to re-soul Angel?” Xander asked as the library doors swung closed behind them.

Giles glanced quickly at him, then away, pulling his glasses off and beginning to polish them with his handkerchief. Xander’s jaw tightened at the familiar sign of the librarian stalling. “We haven’t decided yet. As I said, something has happened and that has changed things.” He pushed the handkerchief back into his pocket, sliding his glasses back on, still avoiding Xander’s eyes. “Can you ask Spike to meet with us when he arrives tonight?”

“Why?”

“I’m afraid we may need his help.” Giles finally looked directly at Xander and Xander’s incipient hostility faded at the worry and fatigue in the hazel eyes. Giles looked exhausted, troubled and… frightened, and that was unusual enough to kindle a similar spark of fear in Xander.

“What’s happened?” he asked sharply.

“A new threat. One that could mean the end of the world.”

Once, Xander had lived in a world where that statement would have caused him to break out laughing. Now, he could only stare silently, the fear inside growing like wildfire at the absolute seriousness in Giles’ voice.


	29. Chapter 29

Giles sat down tiredly in one of the library chairs after making his pronouncement and looked up at Xander, who just stood there, frozen. Giles had a tendency to blurt out things like that without any warning or preparation and then seemed to expect the rest of the world to just deal with what he’d said. Not quite: “Oh by the way, I thought I’d mention that the world will end in the fires of hell tomorrow” but close. Maybe if Xander had been part of the Slayer gang for the past year, he would be used to it by now but instead he felt rather like a fish that had accidentally jumped out of the tank and couldn’t figure out why it was having such a problem breathing. Great, the world was going to end and all he could think of was one of Willow’s goldfish, lying on the desk next to the tank, gasping for breath, looking absolutely bewildered at the unexpected change of its entire world. Xander had an awful feeling he looked like that himself right now.

“I’ve spent most of the last 24 hours researching and consulting with the Watchers’ Council in England and I’m afraid there is no doubt. An artifact that was recently unearthed just outside of town is the burial place of a demon called Acathla.” 

Xander sat down in the chair next to Giles, forcing himself to stop thinking about crazy things like goldfish and concentrate on what the librarian was telling him. 

“He was a demon called forth for a single purpose: to destroy the world. Last night, the museum curator was murdered and the stone containing Acathla was stolen. Angel is obviously the most likely suspect.”

No kidding. On the creating chaos front, Angel was certainly the number one villain in town. 

“I’ve already talked to Buffy and Willow about this, earlier this morning, and I wanted you to be informed as well.” Giles took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose for a moment and Xander could see how tired he was. “Given the way the last meeting between the three of you went, I thought it best to speak to you alone. Buffy and Willow are at the museum seeing if they can learn anything there.”

It was obvious that Giles was working his way up to asking Xander to persuade Spike to help them. From what Xander had seen, Giles was intensely practical about Hellmouth stuff: he was willing to work with anyone who could help, regardless of who they were. He’d certainly had no problem with Spike patrolling for Buffy, unlike Buffy who’d had major hissy fits over the idea. The question was, would Spike be willing to work with Buffy and company given his anger over the re-souling idea. Xander thought Spike probably would. He’d been willing to work with them before to get help killing Angel. If the goal was once more killing Angel, rather than re-souling him, Spike should be ok with it again. 

“How does this Acathla guy go about destroying the world?” 

“Acathla will create a vortex, a kind of whirlpool between the Demon dimension and our own. Eventually, everything in this world will be pulled into that dimension where any non-demon life will suffer eternal torment.”

Xander wondered if he’s missed something crucial or if that made some kind of sense he just didn’t get. For now, he shelved questions about why anyone would want to shift an entire world into a different dimension in the first place because why seemed a lot less important than how and how do we stop it. Senseless or not, being sucked into a demon dimension didn’t sound like something that Xander wanted to experience. 

Dimly, Xander recognized that his outwardly calm questions were a tissue thin defense against his being on the edge of a complete melt down at the idea of the world ending. It was so big he was having a hard time grasping the concept. Sure, last year there had been talk of the Master rising “ending the world” but he hadn’t really taken it that seriously then. At the time, he’d been too worried about Jesse and too freaked by the knowledge that vampires existed to really understand the seriousness of the situation until it was long over. Then too, an old, powerful vampire setting up shop in town was one thing: scary but still potentially something that could be dealt with and fought. The possibility of the entire world being sucked into what sounded like a literal hell was a whole other level of apocalyptic crises. If apocalypses had levels, hell sucking had to be right up there near the top. 

Trying to keep the conversation limited to manageable chunks of information that he could deal with while in total freak out mode, Xander asked: “Ok, this may be a dumb question, but you said Acathla was buried. Doesn’t that mean he’s dead, or was he buried alive or something?”

“Neither, really,” Giles answered with a small amused quirk of his lips. “When he was first defeated in the 8th Century, Acathla turned to stone. He was sealed into a stone coffin and the body was buried in a location ‘where neither man nor demon would want to look’.” He was obviously quoting from something.

Xander raised his brows in surprise. “And California meets that definition?” he asked in disbelief, getting briefly sidetracked.

“It must have seemed so in the 8th Century.”

“Why is it these people have to do everything the hard way? Couldn’t they have just dumped him in the middle of the ocean?” Xander wasn’t even sure who “these people” were but he was plenty pissed at them anyway. If they were still around, they’d better have a damn good explanation for dumping their crazy, turned-to-stone demon in his backyard.

“Unfortunately they didn’t, so we have to deal with Acathla now.”

“How was he defeated before?” Right, back on track. Hey, it had been done once, surely it could be done again. After all, what did they have in the 8th Century they didn’t have now?

Giles reached for one of the open books piled haphazardly on the table. “‘A virtuous knight pierced the demon’s heart before he could draw breath to swallow the world,’” he read out loud. 

“So, where’s a virtuous knight when you need one?” Xander asked rhetorically, hoping that virtuous knights weren’t something the 8th Century had in abundance that they didn‘t have today. 

“I am hoping that Buffy will be able to fill that role, if necessary,” Giles answered. 

Xander thought about saying something about Buffy’s “virtuous” qualifications. If that term wasn’t just a bit of hyperbole in Giles’ often way over-written books, they might be in serious trouble. Xander had the vague notion that virgins actually were a lot more common in the 8th Century than they were in the 20th. If you believed locker room talk, there sure weren’t many around Sunnydale. If that’s what “virtuous” meant in this situation, they were screwed on the Buffy front. Well, Buffy had been, anyway, so that might leave her out for slaying the demon.

Deciding it was safe for the moment to set that potential problem on the shelf next to the ‘why would anyone want to suck the entire world into hell’ question, he summarized crisply: “So, you want Spike to help Buffy stop Angel from waking Acathla in the first place, right?” Manageable chunks, he could do this. 

“Yes. It would be best if Acathla was never revived, rather than to trying to stop him once he has been.”

“Agreed. How tough is it to wake him up?”

“There is a specific ritual that must be performed.” Giles gestured towards the piles of books on the table. “It took me a great deal of research to find any reference to the ritual. We can only hope Angel doesn’t have access to the same materials.”

“Are you guys planning on stopping Angel by killing him or by trying the re-souling spell?” Xander asked flatly.

Giles looked at him steadily. “I intend to stop him however I can. If the re-souling spell appears to have the most chance of success, I will indeed use it. However, I suspect that killing Angel is the safest option at this time. There are simply too many risks with an unknown, untried spell to use it except as a last resort.”

“Does Buffy agree with you?”

“I believe so.” With unusual candor, Giles explained: “Buffy is at her best in a crisis. With the end of the world at stake, she will no longer be able to delay the inevitable with Angel and continue to hope for a miracle. She must act and act quickly. I believe she will be able to do what is necessary.”

“Good, because Spike won’t help you re-soul Angel. He will help you kill him.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Acathla, he in a bloody great stone with carved runes all over it?” Spike asked.

Xander had met Spike at the entrance to the tunnels in the back of the library just after sunset. He’d quickly explained the situation and asked if Spike was willing to talk to the group, preferably without killing anyone. Spike had looked thoughtful as Xander explained that Giles thought Angelus had the means to end the world.

Xander grimaced apologetically. “Sorry, I forgot to actually ask what it looked like, but probably.”

“Yeah, Angelus has it all right. We better go talk to the Watcher.”

They made their way forward through the stacks, Xander leading, a little worried about whether Spike would be able to maintain control around the people that wanted to re-soul Angel. 

“So, Watcher, what’s all this about the rock Angelus has cluttering up his foyer?” Spike greeted them, going directly to the point.

Giles looked like his worst nightmare had just come true in 3D and surround sound. “Angel has Acathla?”

“Got something. Acathla come boxed up in a big square rock? Big stone figure with a sword sticking out of him?” Spike barely waited for Giles’ confirming nod. “Angelus hasn’t woken him yet but he’s giving it a good try.” Rapidly, Spike described what he’d seen last night at the mansion: Angelus throwing crockery at the wall in a snit after failing to complete some ritual. 

Spike had gone to the mansion to check on the status of Angelus’ minions and to see if he could fine tune the tentative plan for storming the place that he and Xander had discussed. He’d spent well over an hour watching the grounds, trying to see if the minions on guard had any kind of regular patrol or post. Eventually he’d decided they didn’t, they appeared to be just randomly wandering the grounds. Spike had thrown a rock into the bushes on the other side of the yard to test their sharpness. They’d reacted instantly, checking the area thoroughly. Which proved they were alert to unexpected noises but unimaginative as they didn’t check anywhere else for the possibility the noise had been a diversion. All of which meant it would be difficult but not impossible to take them out without alerting the mansion. While still prowling around the perimeter of the grounds, Spike had seen a flare of white light coming from inside the mansion, followed by flickers of blue lightning sparking along the peak of the roof like St. Elmo’s fire. The guards had hesitated, conferred briefly, then run inside the mansion - Angelus must have them thoroughly cowed.

In their absence, Spike had risked getting close enough to see what was going on inside. Fortunately, Angelus had been so distracted by his temper tantrum that he hadn’t noticed Spike watching from the windows. Angelus had been ranting to the assembled minions about how whatever he’d been trying to accomplish should have worked and vowing that he would find out what had gone wrong. Spike had slipped away at that point before he was seen.

The Watcher received the information with tight-lipped concern. “That means we still have time to stop Angelus but not much time. He obviously has some idea of what he’s doing even if he’s not getting the details right.” 

“Angelus is pig-headed but not stupid,” Spike concurred. “If he’s decided to go through with this, he’ll keep trying until he gets it right.”

“Then we have to stop him,” Buffy said grimly.

Spike rolled his eyes. “Brilliant, Slayer. And here I was afraid no one would come up with a solution. Got anything to back that up or are you just pissing in the wind?”

“Haven’t seen you doing much about Angelus,” Buffy shot back at him.

Xander intervened, physically stepping between the two to break the glaring match. “Ok, how about we forget all that and move on to the ‘what do we do now’ portion of the evening?”

“How are we going to stop him?” Willow asked.

“Killing him works for me,” Spike answered pointedly.

Buffy winced and wouldn’t look at anyone, staring at the far wall like it contained the secrets of the universe. “I agree,” she said quietly.

“Ok, we’re all on the same page then.” Still in the role of mediator, Xander hurried on. “Anyone got any ideas on exactly how we do that?”

“If I went to the mansion and challenged him, would he come out and fight me?” Buffy turned back to the room and looked at Spike inquiringly.

“Yeah, him and every minion he’s got would. All with orders to wear you down while Angelus stands back and watches so he won’t have to break a sweat when he finally tackles you himself.” Spike looked exasperated. “This isn’t a bleedin’ romance novel. Angelus isn’t big on fair play. Not when treachery is so much more fun.” 

“You’d know about that,” Buffy snarked and Spike just gave her his best “I’m evil” smirk.

“We don’t have to play fair either,” Xander said quietly. “Potentially, at least six of us can attack the mansion.”

“Six?”

“You, Spike, Giles, me, and Willow and Oz, if they’re willing.”

Willow found herself the focus of the entire group’s attention, which caused her to blush and drop the book she’d been looking at. “What?” she asked nervously.

“Willow?” Buffy asked incredulously. “Why would you put her at risk?”

“Only if she’s willing. She, Oz and I have been practicing with crossbows. We could back you and Spike up. Skill-wise, I’m assuming Giles falls somewhere between us and you two.” Xander looked inquiringly at Giles as he said it.

“That’s correct. Of the three of you, Oz is the best marksman,” Xander and Willow both nodded in agreement, “but all of you have become quite proficient. A similar strategy worked on the Master last year.” 

“That’s right, heard you took out old bat-face.” Spike eyed the Watcher speculatively, reminding himself not to underestimate the man. He switched his gaze to Willow. “You up for it, Red?”

Willow and Buffy exchanged a long look, which had Spike narrowing his eyes in suspicion. Willow looked nervous and Xander felt bad for suggesting she go into battle. He knew she helped Buffy out from the sidelines, not by fighting. 

“It’s ok, Willow, it was just a thought,” he said, “no-one’s pushing you.”

“I’m just not sure I could actually help,” she said apologetically, looking down at her lap.

“What about the wolf?” Spike asked. Far as he was concerned, the more bodies there, the better. Every extra person had the potential to lessen the danger to Xander. Xander had mentioned his friend, Oz, and that he envied the other boy his skill with the crossbow. 

Willow looked up sharply, her pinched expression speaking volumes about how she felt about Spike knowing that Oz was a werewolf but she didn’t say anything except, “He’s in LA.” After a pause, she added, “I can call him and see if he wants to be involved.”

Xander knew that would depend on how much Willow actually told Oz but he couldn’t really blame her for wanting to keep her boyfriend out of something like this. “So, four of us for sure,” he summed up. 

“Willow can research ways to permanently destroy Acathla. Defeating Angelus will only alleviate the immediate threat. If it is possible, Acathla must be permanently destroyed so no-one else ever tries to revive him.”

Willow nodded, looking relieved. “I can do that.” 

Buffy looked pleased at that solution. “When should we attack?”

“Tomorrow, just before dawn,” Spike said. “Angelus will expect us to attack in the early evening, because you lot always do. By 4 a.m., you’re all tucked up in your beds and he knows it.”

Buffy pursed her lips, exchanging a glance with Willow. “That sounds reasonable.” 

“You guys on the early shift should head for bed,” Willow suggested. “I’ll stay here and start researching ways to destroy Acathla permanently.” Xander noticed she didn’t mention calling Oz but didn’t say anything. If Willow wasn’t willing to involve Oz, Xander wasn’t going to go behind her back to call the guitarist himself. He didn’t want to put Oz in danger either.

“I agree, you three should all go home and get some sleep.” Giles’ eyes flickered to Spike but he didn’t amend his statement to exclude the vampire. “Willow, if you will help me put these volumes away, I’ll show you the most relevant sources for you to begin your research.”

“So, we all meet… where? When?” Xander asked.

“Sunrise is at about 6:15. I would suggest we meet here, at the school, at 5:30, gather weapons and head out.” 

Everyone nodded and Xander felt a knot of anticipation curling in his gut. Anticipation, not fear. That’s what it was.


	30. Chapter 30

Leaving the library together, Xander found himself walking so close to Spike that their shoulders brushed constantly. Almost unconsciously, his fingers entwined with Spike’s strong cool ones, seeking reassurance from the vampire’s touch. Inhaling deeply, he savored the smell of worn leather and cigarettes and wondered when that familiar Spike smell had become such an essential part of his existence. Just breathing it in made him feel calmer. Spike had so much confidence that Xander felt like he was picking it up just from being near the vampire. Kind of like the Pig Pen kid in the old Peanuts comic strip. Only Spike walked around with a little cloud of confidence around him, not dirt.

“Would you mind if I went to your crypt with you instead of going home?” Flushing slightly, he admitted, “part of me wants to just go somewhere and spend the next few hours having wild monkey sex with you. You know, the whole traditional just-in-case movie sex scene. But frankly, it’s too much of a cliché. Plus, I’m worried about what the others will say if we show up in a few hours and I’m walking funny.”

Spike laughed. Only Xander. “What do y’ have in mind instead, luv? Hand of poker?”

Xander made a face. “Poker’s never seemed quite the same ever since you told me about kitten poker. Would you settle for just going to sleep together?” He felt like a scared kid just wanting to snuggle with someone safe and hoped he wasn’t embarrassing Spike by being so clingy but he really wanted to just be with Spike, soaking up a little of his confidence and that was far more important than not dying a virgin, which was what the wild sex before battle was always about, well, in tv movies anyway. 

Spike put his arm around Xander’s waist, pulling him closer to his side. “Settle for it every night of my life.” He waited for Xander’s slow, relieved smile before adding: “Besides, monkey sex is overrated.” He shot Xander a sideways glance full of wicked promise, “now demon sex, on the other hand…”

“Ewww! If you’ve ever actually had monkey sex, I so don’t want to know about it.” Xander responded with an exaggerated shudder, ignoring the sexy look which had parts of him voting to reconsider the just sleeping together plan.

“You’re the one brought it up,” Spike pointed out innocently.

“It’s an expression, you doofus, not a confession.” Xander nudged Spike’s shoulder hard, unable to smack him with his casted arm, his anxiety fading with the familiar banter as Spike steered him towards a nearby crypt. 

It wasn’t the same one as last night and Xander’s smile faded as he remembered that Spike was switching crypts every night to keep from being found. He wondered again if he could move Spike into his house, except even his parents were bound to notice Spike hiding in his bedroom all day and they’d be furious and confrontations would lead to dismemberment and, oh, yeah, that’s why he’d never invited Spike to stay. He sighed, it would all be over in a few hours in any case and then Spike would be able to settle permanently somewhere. Or… 

No, not going there. Spike would find a good place to stay after tonight. That was the only possible outcome.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For awhile, Spike had been afraid that the nervous tension he could feel vibrating through Xander would keep his boy from ever falling asleep but gradually he’d started to relax, snuggling into Spike and wrapping his good arm around Spike’s waist, his head resting against Spike’s chest. 

Half-sitting against the wall, the duster spread beneath them like a picnic blanket, Xander’s warm weight pressed against him, Spike sat staring into the distance, one hand absently stroking Xander’s dark hair, wondering just whose sense of humor had put him in this position. Dru had probably had a hand in it. Who else besides a mad seer could be responsible for a respected Master Vampire, one renowned for his fighting skills and for defeating two Slayers in fair combat, falling in love with an ordinary human boy. 

When exactly had his unlife become a ha’penny romantic farce? 

He’d mocked Angelus for loving a Slayer then had gone his Sire one better, falling for an inexperienced, straight, teenager. Spike wasn’t celibate by nature, yet here he was, holding his young lover in his arms while the boy slept. With anyone else, Spike would be shagging them through the mattress right now releasing his own growing tension over the imminent confrontation with his Sire, not chastely holding a fully clothed partner like the Victorian gentleman he’d stopped being over a century ago.

Before she faded into dust, Drusilla had told him his destiny lay on the Hellmouth. He’d thought she’d meant becoming Master of the Hellmouth but that had been an empty title which had brought him no real satisfaction, leaving him restless and bored more often than not.

It was only recently that he’d realized that he’d found his destiny in the fragile mortal sleeping peacefully in his arms. The wounded kitten Dru had talked about so often in her final days had been waiting for him outside the factory the day Spike arrived in town. Xander had been his destiny all along. 

His boy was no longer the wounded kitten of Drusilla’s visions. Xander had worked through the guilt and grief that had been overwhelming him when Spike first met him. No longer a kitten, his boy was slowly becoming a lion, not just because he was learning to fight but because Xander had found himself in his long, anguished soul-searching. He had faced death and loss and loneliness and had walked away from the shadowlands stronger and more self-confident than even Xander realized yet. He was more man now than boy, physically and emotionally tempered by the harsh realities of the Hellmouth.

Spike had looked into his own abyss after losing Drusilla and Xander had helped pull him back from the edge. Grief and circumstances had brought them together and, as Spike recovered from his own unbearable loss, he found the boy had wormed his way into his unlife until Spike couldn’t imagine being without him. 

Drusilla had known that Spike needed someone to care for and to love. Dru had known and had sent him here to the Hellmouth and to Xander, who needed someone to love as badly as Spike did. Destiny indeed, Spike thought with a small, twisted smile, his fingers tracing lightly over his mark on Xander’s skin. The mark that proclaimed to all demons that Xander was his.

Shagging through the mattress was fun but he would take a chaste night of quiet peace holding his boy over hours of wild debauchery with anyone else. Xander was ready now and once Angelus was dust and Acathla permanently stone, there would be a lot of mattresses and an inordinate amount of shagging. For now, Spike could wait. A rested and alert virgin was far more likely to survive the day than an exhausted, sore lover.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They were almost to the entrance to the library when Spike came to an abrupt halt. He put a staying hand on Xander’s arm, holding him still as he listened intently. Xander knew by now that when Spike got that intense, focused predator look he was stretching his vampiric senses to their fullest extent. He waited, barely breathing, his heartbeat quickening, for Spike to tell him what he’d sensed.

They were early, it wasn’t quite 5:00, but Xander had wanted to try and slip the weapons he’d stolen back into the book cage before the others arrived. He knew the librarian might already have discovered the missing weapons but figured that Giles would understand why he had taken them. Buffy was not likely to be as understanding even now that she was finally on board with killing Angelus and they really didn’t need another argument just before they took on Angelus.

“Trouble,” Spike said after a moment. “Can smell blood and Angelus.” Xander jerked forward ready to run the remaining distance to the library but Spike still held him back. “It’s over now, they’re gone,” he told Xander and quickly lead the way into the library. 

They dropped the bags of weapons just inside the entrance to the library and moved quickly forward through the stacks, stopping at the upper railing and looking down into the open area below. Spike’s eyes swept the scene, noting the splintered wood and overturned chairs. Small splatters of blood decorated the floor as well as bits of discarded medical paraphernalia. Looking towards the main doors, he saw that they had been strung with yellow police tape. All of which agreed with what his nose was telling him: that what had happened had been hours earlier. From the looks of things not long after they had left, leaving the Watcher and the little redhead to their research.

Research. Spike’s narrowed eyes scanned the room. The Watcher had said there were only a few books out of the pile that had been on the table earlier worth studying for the means to destroy Acathla permanently. Studying the library, he saw that the shelves of esoteric books were untouched. The few volumes scattered on the floor near the overturned table seemed to be just the random refuse of a fight, not the results of a search.

Xander was still staring appalled at the destruction, his knuckles white as they gripped the railing, his eyes haunted. “Xander.” When he didn’t respond, Spike spoke more sharply: “Xander!”

Xander turned his head jerkily towards Spike, looking at him with unseeing eyes. “Police and medics have been here, luv. Both the Watcher and the redhead were here during the attack.” He didn’t add that he knew that because he could smell blood from both of them in the room but from the despair in Xander’s eyes he knew the boy understood it anyway. “Don’t smell death. Best get on the phone to the hospital and check on them.”

Xander stared at him numbly for a moment longer, then pulled himself together. He nodded sharply and ran down the stairs to the little office where Spike could hear him dialing as he walked down the stairs still studying the room. From the looks of things, several vampires had been in on the raid. Spike saw two distinct scatterings of dust on the tiled floor. He quickly flipped the table upright and set himself to the task of gathering the scattered books, not out of any desire to tidy up the mess but wanting to know if any of them were missing. He could only guess that Angelus had come looking for information on the ritual to wake Acathla. He was bent down, gathering up the scattered volumes when he felt the distinct prickle of unease that presaged a Slayer’s approach. Straightening quickly, he turned and saw Buffy in the doorway, pieces of snapped yellow tape drifting gently down behind her. 

Her stunned eyes fastened on him and suspicion and accusation flared instantly to life. She immediately pulled out her ever-present stake, going into an aggressive stance. Spike quickly dropped the books he was holding onto the table to free up his hands. “Not my doing, Slayer.”

He heard the clatter of a phone being dropped and Xander stepped out of the office, frowning as he saw the tense positions of the other two. “Back off, Buffy. Spike and I just got here.” He waited until Buffy lowered the stake, then continued. “The hospital says Willow’s there but not Giles. They won’t put me through to her room and they won’t tell me anything about how badly she’s hurt.” 

“Angelus was here with several other vampires,” Spike informed Buffy, gesturing towards the dusty remains. “If he’s not at the hospital, I’d say Angelus has your Watcher.”

“What would he want with Giles?” Xander asked. “Oh. Acathla,” he answered his own question and felt sick at the thought of what Angelus was capable of doing to get information out of the librarian.

“Right.” 

“We need to go to the hospital and find out if Willow’s ok, then head for the mansion,” Buffy said.

“Don’t have time for that, Slayer. Angelus is probably torturing your Watcher right now.” Not to mention that, in less than an hour, Spike’s mobility would be limited to the tunnels.

Buffy looked torn and Xander understood how she felt. Every instinct was screaming at him to head for the hospital and find out if Willow was ok but Spike was right. Willow was being taken care of and was safe. There was nothing they could do for her that wasn’t already being done by the hospital staff. Giles was in immediate danger and Angel could be performing the ritual and waking Acathla even as they dithered. Praying Willow wasn’t going to…. wasn’t seriously hurt, Xander heard himself say: “There are two bags of weapons already packed: axes, crossbows and knives, mostly. Do you need anything else?”

“God, you really don’t care about Willow at all any more, do you?” Buffy’s face twisted with anger and she shook her head. “This was Giles’ idea, not mine, to work with you two. I don’t trust either one of you to watch my back.” She scrubbed a hand through her hair, looking tired and defeated. “A loser whose only friend is the evil undead and a vampire who’ll probably turn on me the second my back is turned,” she muttered, more to herself than to them. 

Xander braced himself to intervene but was surprised to see that Spike didn’t seem angry about the snide remark. Head cocked to the side, Spike was studying Buffy intently, obviously more curious than angry. “Think I’m going to join forces with Angelus as soon as I’ve lured you into his clutches, do you?”

Xander kept quiet with an effort. Spike was giving Buffy his trademark ‘I’m evil’ smirk - oh, great - and adding a flare of yellow to his wickedly amused eyes. Spike better have something good or the already shaky alliance was ending right here. He just sighed when Spike pulled out a cigarette and lit up, like an artist putting the last stroke to a masterpiece. Pity Spike wasn’t wearing his duster, having left it behind at the crypt but even without the duster, Spike’s ‘Big Bad’ personality was a masterpiece. Xander had seen both it and the real Spike enough to know that the ‘Big Bad’ persona was a disguise the vampire wore, a mask that hid his true personality from the world. Like all good disguises, it was created partly from Spike’s true personality: his short temper, his love of violence, his cockiness and arrogance. All of which were part of Spike, they just weren’t all of him. The truth, but not the whole truth. As Xander had gotten to know Spike better, he’d discovered that the face Spike presented to the world wasn’t even the biggest part of Spike’s personality. The Spike he knew had loved and taken care of a crazy person for a century and quietly regretted the loss of his family, imperfect as that family had been. That was who Spike really was: tender and violent, caring and possessive, impatient and destructive - all woven together into a complex whole. Slapping an ‘evil undead’ label on him was reducing Spike to nothing more than a cartoon caricature and doing so seriously missed the target. Xander wondered if Buffy would ever be able to see that. He didn’t really care what Buffy thought of Spike or of himself, except that it would make things simpler if she didn’t actively dislike, and frequently want to kill, Spike.

Snapping back to the present, Xander shivered a little as Spike continued in a low, dark purr: “Worried that me and Angelus have been planning this all along, aren’t you? That I want to end the world as badly as he does.” 

Spike was so damn sexy when he used that voice. Standing there in the tight black jeans and tee-shirt that showed off his lithe, muscular body, his scarred eyebrow quirked knowingly, his blue eyes full of sensual promises, he was the living embodiment of sex appeal. Xander was embarrassed to find he was staring at Spike, practically drooling, and becoming aroused just from listening to him. Looking away with an effort before he embarrassed himself, Xander was amused to see that Buffy wasn’t immune to Spike’s charms. His amusement faded rapidly as he realized that Buffy was angry at her reaction to Spike and, in typical Buffy fashion, was about to take that anger out on Spike. Now he really hoped Spike knew what he was doing.

Buffy was glaring at Spike. “You’re a vampire. Ending the world is right up your alley. Why would you want to help stop Acathla?” 

“Because I like this world.” Spike answered calmly, dropping the super sexy voice. “You’ve got dog racing and Manchester United,” he slid a warm look over at Xander who smiled back, not the least worried about not being included in the short list of things Spike liked about the world. “I don’t need to be in a demon dimension to get my jollies. But mostly, because I want Angelus dead. I’m not joining forces with him, Slayer, I’m going there to kill him. Only question is, are you coming along?”

Buffy studied him through narrowed eyes for a long moment, then nodded, seeming to accept his words. “Crossbows, axes and knives?” she asked Xander. “That ought to do it.” She looked at the clock on the wall and Xander followed her glance. 5:25, half an hour to sunrise. “I’m going to call Oz,” she said. “Unless you already have them, throw a bunch of stakes in with the other weapons and we’ll be set.”

The phone in Giles’ office rang shrilly, sounding unnaturally loud in the silence that followed Buffy’s agreement and Xander jumped at the sudden noise. All three looked toward the office but Buffy was the first to move, snatching up the phone on the second ring.

“Hello?” She looked across to Xander, “It’s Willow. Are you ok?” she said into the phone.

Spike tuned her out at that point, putting his arm around Xander who had sagged with relief at the news. “Glad for your sake, luv.”

“Me too.” He looked at Spike, sorrow shadowing his eyes. “Things aren’t the same between us but she and I were really close once. I can’t imagine losing her.”

“You’ll be able to see her as soon as this is over.”

Xander brightened at the thought. Disentangling himself from Spike’s arm, he crossed to the open book cage in search of stakes. Spike followed him. “So, same basic plan? Except my job now is to find Giles and get him out of there.”

“Probably be best.” Spike tried to sound apologetic but wasn’t able to pull it off. He didn’t want Xander fighting Angelus, didn’t want him to go to the mansion at all but knew he couldn’t stop him. Not without taking action that Xander would never forgive. “Just be careful,” he couldn’t help adding. “Leave Angelus to me and the Slayer.”

“Hey, I’m sidekick guy, lurking in the background. I’m totally ok with that.” Xander said, holding up his hands defensively. 

Spike growled quietly. “Not a sidekick,” he said. “Thought I told you to stop talking about yourself that way.”

“How about back-up guy? I’m cool with the fact that I’m just getting Giles out while you two do the main fighting.” Gathering up a handful of stakes from one of the shelves, Xander wondered again where Giles got them all. Did Wal-Marts on the Hellmouth sell wooden stakes by the gross? Or did Giles whittle them in his spare time between crises? He turned back to Spike, holding the stakes awkwardly in his good hand, using the cast to brace them so they didn’t drop. “After all, you keep telling me demons are superior and Buffy’s practically a demon herself with all the Slayer extras she’s got.” 

“Oi!” Spike protested, just as Xander had known he would. “Slayers aren’t demons.” He saw Xander struggling to suppress a smile and snagged him by the back of his head, pulling him in for a kiss. “Brat. Slayers are just jumped up humans, not nearly enough class to be demons,” he grumbled.

Buffy came out of Giles’ office. “Willow says Angel and four other vampires attacked them. She was knocked out and didn’t wake up until she was already at the hospital. The last she saw, Giles was fighting them.” Despite her words, tension had fallen away from her and she looked almost optimistic. Her obvious relief that Willow was alive and relatively well made Xander feel more sympathetic towards her than he usually did. She’d really been worried about Willow.

“Is she ok?” Xander asked anxiously.

“She has a mild concussion and they’re keeping her at the hospital for a few more hours as a precaution. Oz is with her.” Buffy shrugged one shoulder. “Willow called him when she woke up. She didn’t call any of us until now because she didn’t want to wake us up. She didn’t realize Giles wasn’t at the hospital until I told her.” Buffy seemed to have lost her hesitation and uncertainty with the phone call. Willow must have convinced Buffy she wasn’t badly hurt, which did more than anything else to ease Xander’s own worry. 

“Let’s go.”

Without another word, Buffy turned and headed out the library doors. Xander just shook his head. Still clutching the stakes, he leaned forward and kissed Spike hard, then ran up the stairs to grab the two bags of weapons, pretending he didn’t hear Spike muttering about not being the Slayer’s manservant. Dropping the stakes in the bag with the other supplies, Xander just smiled at Spike’s disgruntled remarks. He didn’t think Buffy had deliberately left them to lug the weapons for her. From what he’d observed, it was more that Buffy tended to be spontaneous as a fighter and got impatient with the planning. She generally relied on the stake she always carried with her and nothing else and probably thought of the weapons as things he and Spike would need, not herself. 

“Come on, Jeeves,” he said, passing one of the bags to Spike as he reached the main floor. “Her ladyship will need us. Whether she admits it or not.”

As they left the school behind, heading for the mansion, Xander was nervously aware of the approaching sunrise and the looming confrontation. Spike seemed unconcerned about both as they hurried through the still deserted streets. Xander just wished he was half as calm as Spike and Buffy seemed to be about the coming battle instead of feeling like he needed to stop at a convenient ditch and throw up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The mansion grounds were quiet when they arrived. There were dim lights in several of the windows but the grounds were illuminated only by the reflected glow from the streetlights. Spike and Buffy went in first, leaving Xander across the street. They took stakes only - the crossbow mechanisms were noisy and a lot depended on stealth in the first few moments. They had to take out the vampires guarding the grounds both silently and simultaneously or they could forget the element of surprise, and that was not something they could afford to lose in this battle.

Watching and listening tensely, time passed with agonizing slowness and it seemed like forever before Spike stepped out of the gates again, his white hair almost glowing under the streetlight and signaled for Xander to come in. Snatching up the weapons bags, Xander ran across the street. “Ok?” he mouthed. 

Spike nodded as Buffy joined them. Opening the bags, Spike and Xander took axes, while Buffy selected a crossbow. They all made sure they had at least two stakes on them, stashing them away quickly before crossing the grounds to the front door. 

Following the plan they’d hastily concocted on the walk over, Xander hung back slightly while Buffy and Spike silently eased the front door open. To Xander’s surprise, no one challenged them as they slipped inside. Xander followed them after a beat, finding himself in a large foyer, paved in natural stone. He waited just inside the door, holding the axe in one hand and the bags of weapons in the other, taking the weight on his cast, listening intently for indications that Buffy and Spike had been seen, and heard the sharp twang of a crossbow being fired and the familiar soft explosion of a vampire turning to dust. 

“Hello, Lover.” 

Despite the tense situation, Xander couldn’t help rolling his eyes at Buffy’s flip greeting. Granted, he was biased but in his opinion Spike’s fight banter was much more original than Buffy’s. He slipped into the large open room just beyond the entrance hall, keeping near the wall, seeing Spike and Buffy fighting three minions and Angel hanging back near what was either Acathla or a really ugly sculpture. Xander watched just long enough to be sure that Spike was holding his own. Buffy was using her crossbow as a blunt instrument, swinging it at a vampire by the butt end, apparently not having had enough time to reload. Setting the bags down quietly on the floor behind a sofa, where Angel’s people wouldn’t see them but Spike and Buffy could reach them if needed, Xander forced himself to leave the fight and head deeper into the building in search of Giles. Their hope was that any other vampires in the mansion would have been drawn immediately to the main room by the sound of fighting, leaving a clear path for Xander to hunt for Giles. So far, that seemed to be working. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hello, Lover.” 

Spike was furious. The Slayer had barely stepped into the room when she fired her crossbow, wasting what might be their best shot at both Angelus and ending this quickly on a fucking minion. Regretting leaving the first strike in their attack to the Slayer by not grabbing a crossbow himself, Spike fumed, even as he quickly scanned the room. Acathla was still dormant, his ugly stone body the central object in the sparsely furnished room. Good on the Watcher for holding out. Angelus simply looked irritated at their arrival.

“I don’t have time for this.” Angelus signaled for the three remaining minions to charge them and Spike felt the adrenaline rush of battle fill him as he ran forward. Meeting the minions halfway, he swung the axe in a wide circle, causing them to scatter frantically away from the deadly blade. The fight quickly fell into the ageless pattern of attack, parry, dodge, strike, spin, kick, regroup. Spike was peripherally aware of Xander stopping briefly in the room before disappearing in search of the Watcher. No other minions had arrived to join the three who were fighting. 

Angelus growled something and flung himself into the fight for the first time, obviously hoping to catch the Slayer off guard as her opponent choked the air with his dusty remains. Well, if she was thick enough to be caught out that way, she deserved to be killed. Ducking away from a blow and returning it with a one-handed swipe that cleanly beheaded one of his own foes, Spike saw out of the corner of his eye that Angelus and the Slayer were exchanging a flurry of blows, knocking each other around the far end of the room. 

With the fight now two on two, it should have ended quickly. Spike’s half of the fight certainly did. A jump kick sent the remaining minion, a hulking bruiser nearly a foot taller than Spike, flying backwards into the couch, which overturned, spilling the minion onto the floor. Spike leapt after him, yanking a stake out and pounced before he could regain his feet, staking him cleanly before he could recover. 

Turning, Spike saw the duel between Angelus and the Slayer was still on. Something was off and he hesitated for a second, eyes narrowed suspiciously as he studied the fighters. The petite blond fought better than that, he thought. She was mostly just parrying Angelus’ blows and dodging, almost dancing, out of his reach. The Slayer was making no attempt to close with him and she didn’t even have a weapon drawn. Time and again, she passed up openings as Angelus clearly realized her heart wasn’t in the fight and got cocky, leaving himself vulnerable as he tried for a killing blow. 

If the silly bitch couldn’t bring herself to slay her ex, Spike sure as hell could. Hurdling the overturned couch, Spike flung himself into the middle of the fight. Angelus laughed and shifted position and Buffy moved with him, directly into Spike’s path. Swearing, he dodged around her, trying to close on his Sire, but the two of them seemed joined in a conspiracy to prevent him from getting in a clean hit on Angelus.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander moved quickly through the mansion, checking doors. He was fairly sure by now that there weren’t any vampires lurking in the back corridors but he stayed on guard, clinging to his axe as he searched. At the end of the hall, in one of the farthest rooms from the front, he found Giles. 

The librarian was barely conscious, tied to a chair, his shirt hanging in tatters and his chest marred with bruises, burns and cuts. Sickened, Xander ran to him. “Giles! Can you hear me?”

Giles just groaned and Xander hoped he wouldn’t have to carry the older man out of the mansion. He wasn’t even sure he could. Crouching behind Giles, he started to work on the ropes and froze at the sight of Giles’ hands. It looked like every finger on both hands had been broken multiple times. They were crusted with dried blood, crooked and swollen. Xander thought he was going to be sick. Abandoning untying, he carefully used the axe blade to slice through the ropes, trying desperately not to cause Giles any more pain. 

Once he had Giles’ hands free, Xander gently eased them around to the side so they were dangling free. Moving to face Giles again, crouching down so he was at eye level with him, Xander was heartened to see signs that Giles was starting to wake up. “Giles, it’s Xander. I have to get you out of here. Can you stand?”

Giles’ battered face looked naked without his glasses and he seemed decades older than he had just a few hours ago. “Xander?” he mumbled through split and swollen lips.

“Yeah. I’m sorry, Giles but I have to get you on your feet.”

He bent down next to Giles and, gingerly avoiding his hands, lifted one arm over his shoulders. Bracing himself, he slid his other hand around Giles’ waist and began to lift, hating himself when the older man cried out in pain. He got Giles standing, supporting most of his weight, but pleased that Giles was aware enough to assist him at all. 

“Ok, just down the hall and out the door. It’s not far,” he said reassuringly. He and Giles began to shuffle forward towards the door and Xander prayed they wouldn’t run into anyone on their way out of the mansion.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What the hell are you playing at, Slayer?” Spike yelled furiously as Buffy interfered again, preventing him from getting in a killing blow.

She didn’t answer, just rolled clear and bounced back to her feet, before continuing her heavy on dodging, light on serious blows, attack. If Spike didn’t know better, he’d swear she was stalling for time but it was clear she wasn’t ready to either kill Angelus or to let Spike do it. Angelus obviously thought so too.

“Still can’t do it, can you, Buff?” he gloated. “You can’t kill me. Because you still love me. You love what I did to you, how I made you feel.” He laughed with smug arrogance. “That moment of pure happiness that made me the man I am today.”

Well, Spike didn’t have a problem killing the great braggart. Taking advantage of their brief distraction as they faced each other, the Slayer faltering as Angelus’ taunts hit home, Spike swung the axe, aiming for Angelus’ back. Angelus caught the motion out of the corner of his eye and twisted away. Spike had been expecting the move and altered the angle of his swing to compensate. The axe struck Angelus in the side but not as hard as Spike had intended. Instead of a clean blow, it landed glancingly, gouging out a chunk of flesh but not burying itself in the older vampire’s body as Spike had intended.

Swearing, Spike yanked it out and swung it back for another blow. Angelus staggered backwards, stumbling against the stone form of Acathla and falling, landing with a pained grunt on the floor at the base of the statue. Once again, the Slayer was suddenly in Spike’s way and he had to abort his swing or hit her instead of his Sire. 

“Get out of my way or I’ll kill you instead of him,” Spike snarled, cursing as he realized the slight delay had been enough for Angelus to begin struggling to his feet. His Sire put up one blood-soaked hand and grabbed the sword sticking out of Acathla’s chest, using it to lever himself up. 

Lightning crackled in the air, dancing along Angelus’ hand on the sword hilt and sparking around the room, flaring to life along the metal objects nearby. Swearing, Spike hastily dropped his axe, as blue lightning crawled along the blade. He felt rather than saw the Slayer lunge forward and heard her cry of pain as Angelus used Acathla to brace himself, lifting both feet and smashing them into her stomach. The air whooshed out of her lungs audibly as she was sent flying backwards, landing hard and sliding across the floor and into the wall where she lay unmoving.

Angelus’ triumphant laughter sounded loudly in the momentary silence that followed. The sword slid out of Acathla, like Excaliber from the stone, and he spun the blade in his hands exuberantly. Spike hurriedly bent to recover his axe, snatching it up from the floor. He was too late. Already swinging the axe as he straightened up, Angelus’ sword met it squarely, knocking it away from himself. Angelus’ heavier weight staggered Spike momentarily and Angelus recovered faster. Pain exploded through Spike as Angelus buried the sword to the hilt in his stomach. 

The axe fell from suddenly nerveless fingers and Spike’s eyes met his Sire’s one last time. There was a twisted smile on his Sire’s lips and unholy glee in his eyes. “You just never learn, Childe,” he said with mock sorrow, pulling the sword out in one brutal yank and drawing it back for a final blow. 

Spike’s knees collapsed and he crumpled to the stone floor. As he fell, he twisted sideways, managing to get one hand underneath him and catching himself before he sprawled full-length on the floor. As Angelus loomed over him, sword raised, sneering down at him, relishing the moment, Spike ignored the pain and gathered his faltering strength. Taking advantage of Angelus’ brief delay, he kicked out with one foot, connecting solidly with Angel’s knee and dropping his Sire to the floor as the knee gave way. Spike rolled away, agony flaring with every movement, desperate to get beyond the reach of Angelus’ sword. Under better circumstances, he would be taunting his Sire for the amateur mistake of delaying a blow, even for a fraction of a second, and giving an opponent time to regroup. Struggling to get out of the older vampire’s reach, Spike was just grateful for Angelus’ arrogance.

His Sire’s movements were slowed by the wound in his own side. Angelus staggered to his feet, using the sword as a crutch and started for Spike again. Buffy intercepted him, grabbing his sword arm and yanking him around to face her, her foot coming up high and hard as he swung towards her. Still holding him immobile, the Slayer got in two more kicks before Angelus jerked free and brought the sword up again. Buffy leapt back quickly as Angelus swung the sword and the fight moved further from Spike.

Spike looked around, searching for something he could use as a weapon. His axe was still out of reach, too close to the fight now raging between the Slayer and Angelus to retrieve for the moment. Spike was relieved to see that the Slayer was finally battling all out; dancing away from the sword, jumping over it and ducking beneath it, landing blows whenever an opening presented itself. She was on the defensive though, hampered by her lack of a weapon. A stake was no match for a sword.

Remembering the bag of weapons, Spike struggled to his feet and made his way to the overturned couch. The crossbows were useless, the heavy piece of furniture had landed squarely on the two bags and the wooden crossbows had not survived. Buffy’s was beyond repair, abandoned on the far side of the room - crossbows couldn’t take being used as a club. One look at the snapped strings and cracked wood of the remaining crossbows and Spike abandoned any hope of taking Angelus out at a distance. An axe would be safer anyway. No chance of the metal blade dusting Angelus before they had his blood to close the portal. 

Grabbing an axe from the bag, Spike turned to see the Slayer had armed herself with a poker from the fireplace and was involved in a makeshift sword fight. The poker was clumsy but heavier than Angelus’ sword and surprisingly, she was actually holding her own. Finally. Stupid bint had to wait ‘til it was a bloody crisis before doing something. Spike took one second longer to grab a knife out of the bag before moving to help.

Spike got his first good look at the slowly waking Acathla. After the electrical show, nothing had happened for long moments. The demon still looked like stone but his jaw now hung open and a whirlpool was forming inside his mouth. Even as Spike watched, the vortex grew, the air in front of the demon beginning to swirl like water flowing down a drain and the air felt charged with magical energy, electricity tingling along Spike’s skin as he carefully skirted the area in front of the demon. 

Spike was moving far slower than normal, pain dragging at his muscles, and his wary concentration on Acathla preventing him from realizing what was happening for a critical second. Angel was hammering blows down on Buffy, completely ignoring the growing whirlpool behind him. She was on the floor, desperately using the poker to fend off the blows from above.

“Angelus!” Spike yelled and as he’d hoped, his Sire turned his head toward the sound.

Seeing Spike back on his feet, Angelus laughed wildly. He turned back to the Slayer, lifting the sword to bring it down on her again and Spike threw the knife with every ounce of strength he had left. It flashed across the room, slamming into Angelus’ shoulder and burying itself to the hilt. Angelus staggered at the impact, stumbling forward onto his knees and dropping the sword. His Sire clutched at the wound, swearing, and pulled the knife free. 

Spike lurched forward, hoping to reach his Sire before he could defend himself, intending to strike Angelus with the axe and then throw it into the rapidly growing vortex to close it. The wound in his stomach slowed him down and he was still too far away when his Sire spun around suddenly. The knife Spike had thrown was in his Sire’s left hand and he brought it around backhanded, burying it in Spike’s gut, twisting savagely to do as much damage as possible. Spike’s own blow was already in motion and it landed, the axe digging deeply into Angelus’ back, even as Spike began to fall, fresh agony tearing through him. 

Both vampires dropped to the floor. Spike pulled the knife out of his gut, gasping in shock at the renewed pain, as he frantically dragged himself away from the spreading vortex. Angelus was doing the same on the other side of the swirling energy field, crawling along the floor, the blood-stained axe he’d removed abandoned on the floor behind him as he struggled away from Acathla.

Cursing, Spike clamped a hand over his second major wound, trying to stem the blood flow. Even a vampire could lose only so much blood before they became incapacitated. He managed to stagger to his feet, but his legs refused to obey him and instead of moving forward towards Angelus and the Slayer, he fell backwards against the wall, sliding down it to the floor, unable to slow his downward momentum. 

Looking across the room with pain-blurred eyes, Spike saw the Slayer standing over Angelus, holding the sword Angelus had dropped raised up for a killing blow but she was wasn’t moving. The two were staring at each other, a motionless tableau, like they were frozen in time. Stupid bitch still can’t bring herself to kill him, Spike thought wrathfully. Rolling to his hands and knees, he began the painful task of trying to bring his wounded body back under control. Forcing his legs to work, he struggled to his feet, using the wall for support and managed to stand, unsteady but upright. Right. One bloody axe thrown into the vortex, one stake through the heart and it was done. No problem.

Struggling to remain standing, the room wavering around him, Spike was sure he was hallucinating. The Slayer and Angelus were bloody well snogging while the world was ending. It was so bizarre that Spike just stared for a moment, wondering wildly if they had already been sucked into hell and his personal torment was to watch his Sire and the Slayer snogging for eternity.

Reality crashed over him like a bucket of ice water, snapping him out of his insane thoughts. The fucking re-souling spell. The redhead must have gone ahead with it. Spike suddenly remembered all those looks between the Slayer and her friend and the way the redhead had so nervously refused to join the fight. Bitch had gone and done the re-souling spell.

Rage sent adrenaline pumping through his system. Spike forgot the pain, forgot everything but his goal: close the whirlpool and stake Angelus. He moved forward, only to see the Slayer take half a step back and drive the sword into Angelus, burying it to the hilt in Angelus’ chest. “What the fuck?” he said out loud. 

The Slayer’s eyes were huge as she stepped back. Angelus staggered back from the force of the blow, staring in shock at the Slayer. His lips moved, forming her name, but then he was caught up in the expanding vortex. With a sound reminiscent of the roar of a hurricane, the vortex lapped over Angelus. The swirling, orange energy patterns broke like a wave crashing on the beach, leaving chaotic turbulence behind. Angelus’ mouth opened in a silent scream as lightning crackled around him, The vortex shrank in on itself, collapsing around Angelus and dragging the vampire with it as it retreated back into the stone figure of Acathla until it disappeared entirely, leaving the demon standing there, once more inert stone, nothing more than an ugly statue.

Spike stared dumbfounded at the again dormant Acathla, before his accusing eyes turned to Buffy. The Slayer just stood there, hands pressed to her mouth, staring at Acathla. Spike was so shocked and appalled by what had just happened that it took a long moment before he was able to speak. When he did find his voice, it was with a vengeance. 

“You. Stupid. Bitch.” Spike snarled with slow, furious emphasis. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” The surge of adrenaline that had powered him was fading rapidly but he had enough strength for this.

Buffy was still staring blindly at Acathla, the sword she’d used to stab Angel sticking out of the stone demon in the same spot where she’d run Angel through. Tears were starting to run down her cheeks and she looked exhausted, much older and completely devastated. Good, Spike thought viciously. 

“I just killed the man I loved,” she said brokenly. A single tear escaped, tracing a slow track through the dirt on her cheek. 

Her obvious grief found no sympathy in Spike. “No, you idiot, you stuck a sword in a vampire’s chest. Are you so stupid you don’t know that doesn’t kill a vampire?” Spike had to brace himself against the wall to remain upright, wishing viciously that he had the strength to tear the Slayer’s limbs off and use them to beat her to death. “You’ve done far worse than kill him. You’ve bloody well re-souled him and sent him to a demon dimension. Angelus would have been fine there but your precious Angel has a human soul. I hope you’re happy now because Angel is more human than demon and he will suffer the promised eternal torment in that dimension.”

“I didn’t have a choice. I had to do it. I couldn’t let the world be destroyed.” Buffy didn’t sound like she was trying to justify her actions, she sounded like she was trying to convince herself.

“For fuck’s sake, weren’t you listening when the Watcher explained it?” Spike really was going to kill her as soon as he got his strength back. “Angel’s blood opened the portal. His blood would close it. His blood. Where did you get the daft idea that you had to shove his bleeding corpse into the vortex in order to close it?”

Buffy’s face went chalk white and she looked like she was going to faint. For the first time, she tore her eyes away from Acathla and looked at Spike. “But… everyone said the only way to be safe was to kill Angel.”

“Kill ’im before he wakened Acathla, you moron.” Spike glared at her in disgust, only his own wounds preventing him from adding a third Slayer to his tally. “Don’t worry, I’m sure one of the torments being visited on Angel is an endless replay of the love of his life betraying him and sending him to hell for no reason other than she didn’t pay attention when her Watcher explained how to stop the world from ending.” 

Buffy crumpled to her knees, sobs shaking her slender shoulders as the full impact of what she’d done hit her. Bracing himself against the wall, Spike left her lying there without a backwards glance. Limping heavily and supporting himself against the wall, he moved towards the basement. He needed to find Xander and make sure he was ok. Unfortunately, it was now broad daylight and he was trapped in the mansion. Angelus would have a secure sun-proof room downstairs and Spike would have to hole up in it until dark. He’d deal with the Slayer later, unless he decided to leave her alive to wallow in human guilt for what she’d done. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh, my God.”

Xander had managed to get Giles to a neighbor’s house. The neighbor had called for an ambulance and Xander had run back to the mansion as fast as he could, hoping to find the fight over and Spike and Buffy celebrating their victory. If not, maybe there was something he could do to help. Now he stared in shock at the blood covering Spike’s entire upper body. The vampire was listing heavily to the side and looked like he was barely able to stand. He turned his head in response to Xander’s exclamation and Xander was worried that Spike hadn’t known he was there until he spoke. Spike had to be really hurting to be that unaware of his surroundings.

He ran forward and stopped next to Spike, afraid to touch him. “We have to get you somewhere safe,” he said. “The ambulance just left with Giles.” He took a quick look around, seeing Buffy crying and no sign of Angel or dimensional vortexes. “Is Angel dusted?”

“No.” Spike’s jaw tightened as Xander lifted his arm over his shoulders, only partly from the pain as the movement stretched his stomach muscles. “Slayer sent him to hell.” 

“Oh.” Xander threw a surprised look at Buffy then dismissed Angel from his mind. The stone demon still stood in the same spot and obviously wasn’t doing anything which left him free to concentrate on Spike. “Do you have any idea where Angel’s room is?”

“Bound to be downstairs, luv. Safest place for vampires.”

“Then that’s where you’re going.” Taking as much of Spike’s weight as he could, Xander helped him cross the hall to the stairs. Buffy didn’t seem injured and right now Spike was his only concern. She’d have to deal on her own for awhile.


	31. Chapter 31

Xander was getting good at this and wasn’t that a weird talent. Injured person on his right, their arm over his shoulders so his good hand could hold the arm in place while his casted right arm wrapped around their waist to steady them. Shuffle forward with small, slow steps and struggle to take as much as their weight as he could. 

The stairs down to the basement were harder but Spike was better able to manage than Giles had been so it pretty much evened out. Still, Xander could feel the tremors of pain shaking Spike’s body and he was still bleeding heavily from the gory mess that used to be his stomach. The makeshift bandage that had been Xander’s shirt that Spike was holding pressed tightly against his wounds was already soaked through. He knew that moving Spike was making the situation worse but he really wanted Spike somewhere safely beyond the reach of sunlight where the careless twitch of a curtain wouldn’t result in incineration.

Finally down the stairs, Xander was relieved to find there was only a single room and he didn’t have to search for Angel’s bedroom. Helping Spike inside, he eased the vampire down onto the bed, hating the way Spike flinched as he was lowered to the edge of the mattress. Settling him down flat, Xander ran into the adjoining bathroom, snatching up a towel and quickly dampening it in the sink, before bringing it back to the bed. 

He eased the sodden fabric away from the wound and replaced it with the damp towel, fresh blood welling from the jagged holes during the quick exchange. “Spike, what do you need?” he asked urgently.

“Check if there’s blood,” Spike said through gritted teeth. Xander made sure Spike’s hand was firmly clamped over the towel and looked around the room. Not seeing anything that could be used to store blood, he ran quickly back up the stairs to the kitchen he’d seen while searching for Giles. 

The kitchen gleamed with stainless steel and every modern convenience. The enormous refrigerator was nearly empty except for a handful of plastic bags of blood. Xander pulled them out and looked around. Spotting a microwave, he put the bags inside and turned it on. While waiting, he opened cupboards until he found one with a few dishes in it and snagged a mug off the shelf. 

The microwave dinged and he opened it and tested the packets, finding them lukewarm. Afraid to risk damaging them by overheating, he scooped them out, grabbed the mug and ran back downstairs. 

He dumped the bags on the bed and set about opening one with his teeth, wishing he’d thought to grab a knife. Hastily pouring it into the mug, he started to hand it to Spike. Spike was whiter than normal and lines of pain marred his face. Changing his mind, Xander slid his casted arm under Spike’s shoulders and lifted him up slightly. Holding the mug, he brought it to Spike’s lips and was relieved when Spike drank easily, raising a shaking hand to help steady the mug. 

He fed Spike the contents of all five bags, pouring them in turn into the mug as soon as it was empty. By the time he’d started on the last bag, Spike was already looking better, a slight flush of color in his cheeks and able to hold the mug on his own. After draining the last mug, Spike settled back down on the bed, closing his eyes and sighing in relief. Xander was glad to see that Spike’s body was no longer being shaken by tremers. “What now, Spike? Is there any kind of a doctor I can call?”

Spike opened his eyes and smiled. “Vampire, luv. I’ll heal up fine. The wound is already closing and we don’t get normal infections.” He hesitated briefly. “I’ll need more blood in a couple of hours. Blood speeds the healing.”

“Take mine,” Xander offered immediately and Spike’s smiled widened.

“Take you up on that, luv, but I’ll need more than you can spare.” He automatically reached down only belatedly remembering that he’d left his duster in the crypt last night. “There’s a bar where you can buy human blood.” His vampire instincts told him it was daylight outside but they weren’t specific enough to let him know how much time had passed. “It’s still morning, right?”

Xander nodded. “Yeah, it hasn’t been that long, maybe 8 or 9 o’clock.”

“Bloody stupid house doesn’t have sewer access but that works to our advantage right now.” Thinking of his Sire brought a complex well of emotions: anger, satisfaction, grief, the need for revenge against the Slayer and the redhead, but he wasn’t ready - or able for the moment - to cope with, or act on, any of his emotions. He firmly set them aside to concentrate on the practical. 

“Left my duster in that crypt last night, can you find it again?”

Xander’s eyebrows rose but all he said was, “Yeah, you want me to get it for you?”

“It’s important to me,” Spike couldn’t resist saying then added immediately: “Git. I need something in one of the pockets.”

He got a cheeky grin in return. “Hey, far as I can tell you’re in love with the thing.” Spike was pleased to see the worry fading from Xander’s eyes as the lighter tone convinced him that Spike really would recover. The blood had helped tremendously, giving Spike enough strength to hold a normal conversation.

“In love with you, mate. I’m just cheating on you with the coat,” Spike said with mock seriousness. That got him a delighted smile and a quick peck. He would have tried to prolong the kiss but had to admit that he honestly wasn’t up to it right now. Angelus had done a good job on him and, even with unlimited blood, it would take him several days to be back to full strength. “Need you to bring it here, luv. The bar’s number is in my coat and it’s not the kind of place listed in the directory.” 

Xander nodded in understanding. “I should be back within an hour.” He looked doubtfully at the towel pressed to Spike’s wounds. “Is that all you need? Shouldn’t we bandage it with something?”

“This’ll be enough for now, the bleeding’s already nearly stopped,” Spike said reassuringly and truthfully. Bandages might be a bit more comfortable but they weren’t necessary.

“Will you be ok while I’m gone?”

“Be fine, luv. Like I said, this isn’t a proper lair - no tunnel access. Up side is that no one can get in during the day. I’ll be safe as houses.”

Xander rose from his perch on the edge of the mattress. “I’ll be back as quick as I can. You just lie there and rest, ok?”

“I’ll be asleep soon as you’re gone.” Sleep and blood were what healed vampires, their bodies knitting together far more rapidly than living tissue. “Wake me soon as you’re back,” he instructed. “I’ll need to call the bar and put in an order. Sorry, luv, you’re going to need to fetch it for me, don’t want anyone knowing where I’m at while I’m laid up.” 

“Not a problem.”

“Don’t worry if I’m hard to wake up. Healing sleep’s a bit different from regular sleep. Just keep shaking me ‘til I’m up.” He gave Xander a stern look. “Don’t wait to give me more time to rest or anything sappy like that. I’ll go back to sleep soon as I’ve made the call, none the worse for you waking me.”

Xander’s sheepish look told Spike he’d been right on the money with that order. Xander bent down and kissed him gently. “Love you, Spike. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He straightened up, blinking back sudden tears and cleared his throat sharply. “And I’ll bring your mistress with me. I know you want to be alone with her.”

“Brat.”

Xander’s genuine, if somewhat shaky laugh echoed behind him in the hallway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander must have run most of the way there and back. He returned far sooner than Spike expected, holding the duster folded carefully to keep everything Spike habitually stuffed into the pockets inside, clattering down the stairs and stopping abruptly at the door to the bedroom, obviously surprised to see Spike awake. 

Spike had been surprised as well that he hadn’t been able to settle into the near-coma healing sleep that vampires slipped into when they were badly injured. He’d tried to put it down to left-over adrenaline and the unease that came from sleeping in enemy territory but he wasn’t even fooling himself. Angelus’ smell permeated the bed, the clothes in the old fashioned wardrobe, the entire room. The familiar scent had kept Spike’s brain churning as he tried to sort through his conflicting feelings about what had happened. 

Mostly he was angry. Angry at the Slayer and her friend for re-souling Angelus. Angry at the Slayer for her delaying tactics that had near as not gotten Spike killed and especially for shoving the wounded, re-souled Angelus into the vortex when it hadn’t been necessary. Furious with his Sire for everything he’d done since losing the damn soul in the first place and mad at himself for not being able to take Angelus out in time to prevent the whole fiasco.

There was regret and sorrow underlying his anger. He’d lost his Sire again, both the souled version he had tentatively begun re-connecting with and the returned Angelus. Neither had been the Sire he’d in turn loved and hated, fought with and submitted to, admired and loathed, back in the days when he was an immature fledgling desperate to learn and to have his family be proud of him. Both Angel and Angelus had given Spike glimpses of his Sire again and now they were both irretrievably gone. 

The demon was howling for revenge against the two humans that had caused this cosmic fuck-up and Spike had spent long minutes imagining lingering, painful tortures to inflict on both of them. As pleasant as the thoughts were, and as much as the two interfering bints deserved it, Spike knew he couldn’t follow through with his ideas. Xander might forgive him an accidental death during the course of a fight but he wouldn’t be able to live with Spike deliberately murdering either of the girls, especially if torture was involved. 

Damn inconvenient, human squeamishness. 

Spike was wondering where that left him and idly drawing up “accidental” death scenarios when he heard Xander returning. 

“Spike?”

“’m allright, pet. Just thinking.” He took the coat Xander held out and fished around in the pockets for a moment until he found the scrap of paper that held the number he sought. Xander had already brought the phone closer and Spike dialed the number as Xander settled on the edge of the mattress.

“Put the boss on,” he snapped into the phone as soon as it was picked up. No trace of the weakness he felt showed in his voice as he growled in response to the query that followed.

“It’s someone who’ll not only tear your head off, he’ll piss down your neck before hunting down your whole family if you keep asking stupid questions.” There was a short pause and Spike grinned at Xander’s expression as he waited for the owner to get on the phone. 

“It’s Spike. I’m sending my boy over to pick up some blood. How much you got?”

/…/

“I’ll take the 20 freshest bags you got. Try and pawn off anything old or non-human and I’ll burn the place down and hold a party on the ashes.” 

/…/

“Have it ready in two hours. And, Saelire, anyone but a Frintreck so much as looks at my boy cross-eyed, I’m going to get very testy. Clear?” 

Spike hung up and Xander asked curiously: “A Frintreck?” 

“They’re naturally cross-eyed, pet.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll give you directions to the bar. Just walk in the front door and ask for Saelire. Everyone in the place will be able to sense my mark, so most won’t hassle you to begin with and Saelire will stop anyone who tries anything stupid. Don’t worry. Place will probably be deserted this time of day and you’ll be fine even if it isn’t.” Spike patted Xander’s knee reassuringly. “I’ll sleep for a couple of hours until you get back. Stop on the way at the hospital so you can check on the Watcher - know you want to.”

Xander’s face was a mix of stubbornness and relief. “I…” he started to protest, not wanting to leave Spike alone for that long.

“None of the minions got out, luv, so no-one knows what happened and it’ll be a day or two before word gets around. At least for now, I’m as safe here as anywhere else. I know you want to check on the Watcher and I’ll just be sleeping. Go to the hospital first and then to the bar. You’ll be safe there because I trust Saelire but I want you in and out of there fast and while it’s still mid-day. Right?” 

“Ok.” Xander gave in, he really did want to check on Willow and Giles. “You’re sure you’ll be all right for a little while?” Xander stood but still looked worried about leaving Spike alone. 

“I’m already healing, luv.” Hating that there wasn’t any other option, Spike pointed at the wardrobe. “Grab yourself a shirt out of there, pet. They should fit close enough.” His own shirt was beyond repair and would have been too small in any case.

Xander glanced down, obviously having completely forgotten he’d used his shirt for a bandage. He opened the wardrobe and Spike grinned as Xander sorted through the clothes, muttering biting comments about Angel’s obvious aversion to cotton. Xander finally pulled out a midnight blue silk shirt and slid into it. He turned, buttoning it up, and Spike had to forcibly choke back a growl at seeing his boy wearing Angelus’ clothes.

He looked away for a moment, reminding himself that it wouldn’t do to send Xander half-naked into a demon bar. Much as he hated it, it would confuse anyone who saw Xander that he smelled of both Spike and Angelus. A sudden thought struck him and he looked back at Xander. “Is the Slayer gone?” She actually could cause him problems if she decided to blame him for having told her a few home truths. Spike couldn’t sense her presence and assumed she was gone but it wouldn’t hurt for Xander to check.

Xander looked towards the door as if he could see the living room. “I didn’t notice if she was still here when I left before. I’ll check, but I think she’s gone.”

Spike was more tired than he like to admit and lay back down on the bed. He was healing but he had a long way to go and really needed to rest. 

“Be back soon.”

Spike was already drifting to sleep as Xander left.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At the hospital, Xander discovered that Willow was already cleared to be released. The door to her hospital room was open and Oz was inside, staring out the window.

“Oz?”

“Hey.” Oz turned at his call, looking… If it had been anyone but Oz, Xander would have said they looked completely calm and composed. Xander was getting better at reading Oz’s different expressionless expressions and Oz looked both worried and uneasy. “Willow’s in the bathroom, changing,” was all he said.

“How is she?”

“I’m fine.” Willow stepped into the room, smiling at both of them. The only outward sign of injury was a small bandage on her forehead and some bruising around her eye relief filled Xander. Even though he’d known she wasn’t badly hurt, he’d needed to see it for himself. Without thinking, he hugged her gently and she returned the hug and, for a moment, it was like things hadn’t changed between them. 

The moment faded and they released each other, both fumbling for words. “So, no permanent damage?” Xander asked, after a short awkward pause.

“No, they said it was a mild concussion but nothing to worry about really. Not much more than a headache now. I’m good to go.” She checked the room for anything Oz had missed in packing up her stuff and gave him a grateful smile.

“Have you heard anything about Giles?” 

“How’s Buffy?”

Their questions overlapped each other and Willow’s face clouded with worry as she answered first. “We were going to try and see him right now. They said he was in surgery.” 

“Surgery?”

“His hands,” Oz said quietly.

Xander shuddered as he remembered how bad Giles’ hands had looked. 

“Buffy?” Willow prompted.

“And the demon?” Oz put in. “I mean, the world didn’t end because,” Oz gestured around them, “check it out.”

“Acathla’s dormant,” Xander told them. “Buffy defeated Angel and I guess she went home. She left while I was taking care of Spike.”

“How is Spike?”

Xander smiled at Oz for asking. “He was hurt pretty badly but he’s going to be ok. He’s doing the vampire sleep-healing thing for awhile.”

Willow asked hesitantly. “Buffy defeated Angel? Do you mean she had to kill him?” Her voice was faint and she looked bewildered and upset.

Xander shook his head. “I’m not sure. I didn’t see what happened and I haven’t gotten the details from Spike yet. All he said was that Angel was dead.” Xander thought about that for a second, then corrected himself. “Actually he said that Buffy sent Angel to hell but I assumed he was being metaphorical.”

“We should call Buffy,” Willow began.

“Giles first,” Xander said. Oz silently picked up Willow’s bag and put his arm around her, steering her out the door after Xander. 

Giles was out of surgery and in the recovery room but they were told they couldn’t see him for awhile yet. Xander and Oz settled in the waiting room and Willow left to look for a phone so she could call Buffy. When they were alone, Xander looked at Oz closely, seeing the signs of stress in the tense posture and the small lines around his eyes. 

“Are you ok?” he asked quietly.

Oz didn’t answer for a minute, then said, “It was a lot. Willow hurt. An apocalypse. The spell.” He glanced at Xander and managed a tiny smile. “Just having an adjustment problem.”

Xander was already nodded sympathetically - he’d had a lot world-view adjustment moments in the last year, they took awhile to absorb - when his brain caught up with his ears. “Spell?” he echoed faintly, a sinking feeling in his stomach. “What spell?”

“You didn’t know?” When Xander shook his head, Oz continued, “Willow insisted she had to do this big spell in spite of being hurt. She said the fate of the world might depend on it and made me bring her a bag of stuff from the library.” After a pause during which Xander couldn’t breathe, much less speak, Oz shook his head, looking almost puzzled that he’d done what Willow had wanted. “She can be really determined.”

He went on after a moment. “I helped her do the spell and it got really scary. At one point, Willow started…” he smiled suddenly. “If she wasn’t Jewish, I’d say she started speaking in tongues.” The smile died as quickly as it had come. “Towards the end, she looked almost… alien. I would have walked right past her on the street without recognizing her.” Looking grim, he finished, “she collapsed and it was almost an hour before she could even sit up.”

“What was the spell for?” Xander asked, keeping his voice calm with an effort.

“All she would say was that it would help Buffy defeat the demon.” His eyes met Xander’s searchingly. “You know, don’t you?”

“I think so.” Xander stood up abruptly, unable to remain seated. “Damnit! Why would she do that?” He walked across the small room to stare out the window while he thought furiously. 

It had to have been the re-souling spell. Nothing else made sense and Willow had wanted to do the spell. She’d been excited about it and she’d always loved a challenge that stretched her intellectually. Willow must have figured she had enough time to do the spell before they had to fight Angel and if she could re-soul him first, there wouldn’t even be any fight. 

Xander was torn. He and Willow spent so much time fighting, it seemed like they were on the opposite side of most issues these days. If he confronted Willow about the spell, they’d end up in a shouting match and probably be thrown out of the hospital and then no-one would be able to see Giles. He needed to leave soon in any case to get the blood for Spike and it was all probably moot anyway - either the spell hadn’t worked or it had been too late and Angel was already dead. Yelling at a person barely released from the hospital just seemed wrong, especially if she hadn’t actually succeeded in doing the thing he was mad about. When Spike was better, Xander would ask him what had happened and then decide if he wanted to confront Willow. 

He turned back from his unseeing perusal of the parking lot below and found Oz watching him. “Oz, I promise, I’ll tell you what’s going on later. I’m really mad about what I think Willow did but this isn’t the time or the place to get into it with her. I have to get blood for Spike,” he added recklessly, relieved when Oz’s didn’t even blink at that revelation. 

“Tell Willow I had to go,” he said. “I’ll call you in a day or two.” He opened the door and nearly ran over Willow who was just reaching for the handle. 

Willow looked worried, her gaze switching back and forth between Oz and Xander. “Buffy isn’t at home,” she reported. “Her mother hasn’t seen her since last night.” 

Xander was practically vibrating with the need to get out of there before saying something he’d regret. Oz obviously saw it and moved forward, slipping between the two and surreptitiously easing Willow further into the room while blocking Xander from getting closer. 

“If she killed Angel, she’s probably taking some time to deal. She’ll come see Giles,” Oz said reassuringly, putting his arm around Willow and leading her to the couch.

“Xander?” Willow asked, seeing him still at the door.

“He has to go, Spike needs help.”

Xander took his cue and shut the door behind him. Looking around, he headed for the nurses’ station. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An hour later, seriously behind schedule but cast free, Xander hurried out of the hospital. He’d been able to persuade a nurse to let him peek into Giles’ room and seen that the librarian was sleeping off the anesthesia, his heavily bandaged hands propped up in small cradles in front of him. There had been a lot more bandages on his chest and face but the nurse assured Xander that Giles should recover fully.

His own doctor had spotted him in the hallway as he was leaving Giles’ room and told him that since he had five minutes free, he might as well take the cast off now. Without waiting for a response, he’d pulled Xander into an examination room and started setting out equipment. Despite being worried about the time, Xander had wanted the plaster off too much to turn down the offer. It had been surprisingly quick and Xander had thanked the man profusely for taking the time to remove it. The doctor had just waved him off, saying, “Don’t take it personally but I don’t want to be seeing you again any time soon, young man.” Xander had just laughed and waved back. 

Walking quickly towards the industrial part of town, Xander felt almost lopsided. He’d gotten so accustomed to the slight extra weight that his right arm felt funny, like he had to consciously hold it down to stop it from floating up. He felt like Quasimodo, lurching slightly to the left as his body insisted on compensating for the weight that was no longer dragging him down on the right side. He knew it was mostly his imagination but worried that he was going to look like an idiot if he walked in the bar like Neanderthal Xander, barely upright human. Fortunately, his body had adjusted by the time he reached his destination.

The bar was unmarked, just a plain metal door in an unremarkable warehouse. Xander checked the address twice to be sure he had the right place and then squared his shoulders and tried to look confident. Opening the door, he stepped into a long, narrow entryway. The only light came from the sunlight at his back. He would have preferred to leave the door open behind him but was pretty sure that would be considered rude, given that some of the patrons were bound to be allergic to sunlight. 

Stepping inside the gloomy interior, he looked around, relieved to see the place was nearly empty and crossed to the bar. “Looking for Saelire, Spike sent me,” he announced to the human-looking bartender. 

The bartender ignored him for a long minute. He was taking glasses out of a small dishwasher, polishing them and setting them down on a towel on the bar. It took Xander a moment to realize the number of glasses on the bar wasn’t increasing because the bartender was picking them up and stowing them on an upper shelf behind him using his tail. Fascinated, Xander forgot his errand for a moment, watching the tail set the glasses down delicately on the shelf, always in the right spot even though the bartender wasn’t looking behind him.

“He’s in the back.”

Xander jerked his attention back to the man’s face, blushing at the amused look the man was giving him. He jumped as the tail flipped forward over the bar and poked him on the shoulder. “That way,” the man growled and the tail jabbed twice in the direction of the far corner. 

“Right, thanks. No problem, I’m just heading for the back,” Xander stuttered as he backed up hurriedly and moved in the direction indicated.

Finding the small office in the back, Xander knocked on the door frame and stuck his head inside. “Mr. Saelire?”

The green-skinned demon looked up from the ledger he was writing in. “Spike’s boy?” he guessed.

“You have the blood?” 

For answer, the demon heaved its massive torso up from behind the desk, displaying an impressive array of tattoos running up and down his arms and across his chest. At least Xander assumed they were tattoos but he wasn’t about to ask. He backed away nervously as the demon seemed to expand to fill the room but the guy just went to the doorway and yelled at the bartender: “Grab the cooler out of the frig in the back.”

He looked down at Xander. “Tell Spike to settle the tab next time he’s in.”

Xander knew that Spike would tell the man just where he could put his bloody tab but he didn’t have the nerve to do it himself. “Right.”

He picked up a small cooler with a carrying handle and left as quickly as he could. Demon bars were much less scary when he was with Spike, he decided once he was safely out in the sunlight again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Returning to the mansion, Xander found Spike deeply asleep. 

He froze in the doorway of the bedroom and, for one second, stared at the vampire in shock, revulsion filling him. For the first time since he’d met Spike, Xander was truly conscious of the fact that Spike was literally a corpse. He’d known since before he met Spike what vampires were but seeing Spike lying there motionless, without any of the small signs of life that told you a person was sleeping and not dead, it was driven home to Xander in a way it never had been before that Spike was a dead body taken over by a demon. 

Without the personality that animated him, Spike actually looked dead and Xander was seriously wigged out for a minute. He wondered wildly if that was why whoever made the rules had decreed that vampires should turn to dust when they died. After all, the dust thing didn’t really make any sense according to Xander’s dim grasp of the laws of physics. But mystically, it did make a creepy practical kind of sense - otherwise how would you tell a sleeping vampire from a dead one? A macabre image popped into his head suddenly of a room full of sleeping and dead vampires with time keepers who determined that once you were silent and still for X amount of time, you were actually dead and had to be disposed of.

Xander shivered. Spike was the most alive person he’d ever known and he really didn’t like to think of Spike as being a corpse. Shaking his head to dispel his bizarre thoughts, he quickly set about waking Spike. When Spike was awake, it would once again be impossible to think of him as an animated corpse and that was an image Xander never wanted to have again. 

It took nearly a minute of shaking and yelling to wake Spike, during which Xander kept reassuring himself that he wasn’t really dead. A tiny flare of panic that only staked or beheaded vampires did the turn-to-dust thing was just beginning when Spike finally stirred, his blue eyes snapping open. 

Xander smiled, relieved. “Hey, I’ve got your blood. It’s been about 4 hours, do you need more?”

“Yeah, warm me up four bags,” Spike answered, sounding fully awake, his voice stronger than when Xander had left.

“Be right back.” He returned to the kitchen where he’d set the cooler down and warmed four bags in the microwave. He snagged a clean mug from the cupboard and returned to the bedroom. Spike was sitting upright and Xander dropped the bags on the bed and handed Spike the already filled mug.

He waited silently until Spike had drunk all four bags, dropping the empties into the waste basket, then insisted on taking a look at the wounds despite Spike telling him it wasn’t necessary. He got a fresh towel from the bathroom and a wet washcloth and carefully peeled away the first towel. Spike had been right, the wounds were visibly better and the bleeding had stopped. Xander began gently cleaning the dried blood off Spike’s skin where it had flowed down and soaked his pants. 

He was peeling Spike’s pants off with Spike’s assistance when Spike suddenly realized he was using both hands. 

“Pet?” 

Xander followed his pointed look and grinned, holding up his plaster-free arm. “The doctor snagged me while I was at the hospital and said it was ok to take the cast off. That’s why I’m a little late getting back.”

“That’s great, luv. ‘Bout bloody time, you humans take way too long to heal.”

Xander finished sliding Spike’s jeans off and resumed cleaning the blood off the newly uncovered areas. “Well, I’m envying you now, that’s for sure.”

Spike smirked. “Got nothing to be ashamed of yourself, pet. Built like a bloody Viking you are.”

Xander rolled his eyes. “No fair, when I can’t smack you. You know what I meant.”

“Not up for those kinds of games yet, luv. Maybe tomorrow.”

“If you’re into bondage, I’m not sure I want to know.” Xander snarked back, then blushed as a sudden picture of an aroused Spike, naked and tied to the bed flashed through his mind. Maybe he was being too hasty, he thought as his body reacted strongly to the mental image.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike went back to sleep again, telling Xander to wake him up around sunset. Guiltily, Xander left the bedroom and wandered around the mansion, exploring and avoiding the sight of Spike deeply asleep. He was sure it was just the healing sleep that was freaking him out, he hadn’t ever reacted like this to Spike when they had napped together before.

Exploring the mansion, Xander made sure that all the doors and windows were either locked or barricaded as best he could. Despite the quiet neighborhood, he was worried about being in the mansion with Spike unable to defend himself. Hopefully, any vampires associated with Angelus were now dead but Xander worried about the coming night and whether anything would try and get in.

He avoided Acathla and the room where Giles had been tortured, closing the door on the blood and the phantom impression of suffering that still seemed to fill the room with an almost palpable sense of evil. He knew it was his imagination but didn’t want to deal with it anyway. He found a room set up as a study with several Giles-type books scattered on the desk and settled himself to pass the time by reading about Acathla. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike looked much better by sunset, although he still didn’t try to leave the bed. He eagerly drank down four more bags of blood and afterwards sat talking with Xander like nothing was wrong.

Snuggled beside Spike, holding him gingerly to avoid hurting him, Xander hesitantly asked about what had happened during the fight. 

Spike sighed. “Angelus woke Acathla,” he began.

Xander jerked upright. “What!?”

Spike winced slightly at the sudden movement and Xander bit his lip, looking apologetically at the vampire. “Sorry.”

“’s allright.”

“But he’s dormant now or else that’s one hell of a wimpy vortex.”

“Yeah, Buffy skewered Angelus and shoved ‘im into it,” Spike replied brusquely. “That shut it down.”

Xander digested that. “So, you meant it when you said that Buffy sent him to hell.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you ok?” Xander looked searchingly at Spike. 

Spike didn’t answer for a long time. Finally, he said, “He could be a right pain in the arse, but he was my Sire.”

“Are you sorry he’s dead?”

Spike’s lips tightened. “He’s not dead, that’s the problem.”

“What do you mean?”

Spike glanced briefly at him, then resumed staring at the far wall. “Vortex led to a demon dimension, remember? Eternal suffering and all that rot.”

Xander got a sinking feeling he knew where this was going. “The re-souling spell worked, didn’t it?” he asked quietly. Rapidly, he filled Spike in on what he’d learned at the hospital. “It was the re-souling spell, wasn’t it?” he finished. 

“Yeah. Slayer knew Red was trying it, too. She was stalling, kept interfering when I tried to close with Angelus. Angelus got the sword out of Acathla and stabbed me. Next thing I knew, the Slayer and Angelus were snogging in front of Acathla, the vortex about to swallow them both. Before I could reach them, she stabbed him with the sword and the vortex sucked him in and closed up behind him.” He looked at Xander, anger and pain filling his eyes. “Wouldn’t have minded if she’d killed him. That’s what I intended. But she re-souled him and then sent him wounded into a hell dimension. Not even Angelus deserved that.” He snorted. “Angelus would have loved the place and probably ended up running things in a few years. Angel would be better off dead. Stupid bitch didn’t even know she hadn’t killed him. Standing there crying and saying how she’d killed her lover. I let her know what she’d really done.” 

Xander was speechless. He pulled Spike further into his arms, cradling him and trying to will comfort to him. Xander didn’t really care if both Angel and Angelus were dead and wouldn’t have minded if Angelus was being eternally tormented but he could understand why Spike was so upset. Imagining his own father in a hell dimension, Xander knew he wouldn’t have gotten even a momentary satisfaction from it. Like he suspected Spike was doing now, Xander would have been remembering the times when his father wasn’t a jerk, before alcohol and blaming others became the mainstay of his existence.

Holding Spike, gradually feeling the tension go out of the slim body as Spike slid into sleep again, Xander was lost in his own painful thoughts. He wished he believed that this particular road to hell had been paved entirely with good intentions but he was afraid that Willow’s decision to do the spell had been based, more than a little, on selfish reasons. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thankful it was the weekend and school wasn’t an issue, Xander left Spike the next morning to visit Giles at the hospital. Spike had slept through the night and Xander had fallen asleep with his arms still wrapped around the vampire, Spike’s nose buried in Angel’s shirt. Xander hoped the scent had brought comfort. Spike had been famished in the morning, draining six bags of blood and leaving Xander worried about the rapid dwindling of their blood supply. Spike had dismissed his concern, assuring Xander that he wouldn’t need nearly as much blood now that he was mostly healed. Spike told him that he would sleep again all day but that he would be almost fully healed by night.

At the hospital, Xander was a little startled by the enthusiasm with which the librarian greeted him.

“Xander! Thank heavens. Can you dial a phone number for me? I’m afraid I’m unable to do it for myself and the nurses all say they are too busy.” 

“Of course.” Xander couldn’t help looking at Giles’ hands, still carefully supported separately from his body. Giles saw where he was looking and smiled reassuringly. “More inconvenient than anything. It will be several days before I can use them at all.” Despite his casual tone, his eyes were haunted as he looked at his damaged hands. 

Xander didn’t know what to say. Giles had been through something Xander couldn’t even begin to imagine and he wanted to acknowledge it in some way but didn’t know how. Settling for the mundane, he picked up the telephone and brought it to the bed.  
“What number do you need?”

“I want to call Buffy’s house.” Giles recited the number and Xander dialed for him. He held the receiver to Giles’ ear as the call went through and listened as he spoke to Buffy’s mother.

Buffy apparently hadn’t come home yet and Giles made reassuring comments into the phone.

The situation was horribly reminiscent of Xander’s own conversations last year with Mrs. McNally and Xander looked out the window, trying unsuccessfully not to listen as guilt flooded him. He hadn’t been to Jesse’s house since last summer. Mrs. McNally had been so upset by Xander’s visits that he had stopped going entirely. Now he wondered if he shouldn’t have tried harder to find a way to tell her what had happened, or at least some version of the truth that Jesse was dead. Knowing had to be better than uncertainty. 

Distantly, he realized that the conversation was ending and pulled his attention back to Giles. “I’ll let you know immediately if I hear from her. Please do the same.” Giles gave Mrs. Summers his number and Xander hung up the phone at his nod.

“She hasn’t heard from her?” Xander asked, not knowing what else to say.

“No,” Giles confirmed tersely. “Willow said that Angel is dead?” 

“He’s in the demon dimension, which I guess is pretty much the same thing as far as we’re concerned.”

“Please tell me what happened,” Giles instructed and Xander filled him in on what Spike had told him. From Giles’ expression, he gathered that Willow hadn’t told him about the spell. He couldn’t really blame her, since he left out the part where Spike had ripped Buffy a new one for sending Angel to hell.

Giles looked lost without the use of his hands. His shoulders kept moving slightly as if he wished he could take his glasses off or leaf through a book that would hold the answer to the problems facing him. He didn’t actually have his glasses on and probably couldn’t read without them but that just made him seem more troubled and uncertain.

“Spike and I are staying at Angel’s mansion until he finishes healing,” Xander said into the silence that had fallen. “Acathla’s still in the living room. Did you guys have a chance to figure out what to do with him?” He smiled crookedly, “he actually kind of goes with the décor but we can’t leave him there forever in case someone else gets the idea to mess with him.”

Worrying about a demonic problem seemed to steady Giles. “You’re quite right. If nothing else, we may have to try your suggestion of dumping him in the middle of the ocean. However, as none of us owns a boat, we must see what the books say about permanently destroying him.” Once again, his shoulders made a small, frustrated movement.

Xander had until sunset and didn’t want to sit in the mansion waiting for Spike to wake up. He really didn’t want to risk the return of the creepy feeling that had come from watching Spike sleep. “I could bring some of your books and we could see if we can find some way to destroy him,” he offered.

Giles seized gratefully on the idea and Xander guessed that the librarian was not happy being stuck helplessly in the hospital. It probably lead to far too many dark thoughts. He left a few minutes later with a list of books Giles wanted him to bring and the location of a spare pair of glasses he kept in the office. Giles had dismissed the book Xander had been reading at the mansion, saying only that, fortunately for all of them, that particular volume was largely useless. 

It didn’t take Xander long to gather the books and return to the hospital. They worked out a system where Giles read from a book propped up on the little folding tray they served meals on and Xander turned the page for him whenever he asked. It was embarrassing how often he thanked Xander for his help and Xander resolved to return every day until the librarian was released from the hospital and able to do things for himself. It seemed like the least he could for someone who had held up under torture and not given Angelus the key to destroying the world. 

After two hours, Giles was sure he had found the answer and Xander was amused to find that he’d had the right idea with his joking suggestion. Apparently Acathla couldn’t be destroyed. Those 8th Century guys who had dumped Acathla in the wilds of what was now California had had the right idea all along. Acathla could only be buried somewhere where no one would find him. 

“I rather like your suggestion of dumping him in mid-ocean,” Giles said thoughtfully.

Xander answered dubiously, “I know Cordelia Chase’s parents have a big boat. Do you suppose she could get them to loan it to us?”

Giles brightened. “Excellent suggestion, Xander.” Seeing the beginnings of panic in Xander’s eyes, he smiled reassuringly. “Perhaps it would be best if I spoke to her. Ms. Chase has some knowledge of what goes on in Sunnydale and I believe owes Buffy a considerable debt for saving her life on more than one occasion.”

His eyes clouded again at the thought of Buffy and the peace he had found in reading vanished. Xander hesitated, then found himself saying: “Spike said Buffy was really upset and crying after…” he stopped in mid-sentence as he realized he was editing again - he really did owe Giles the truth. 

He started over. “Spike was really upset about his Sire being re-souled and then pushed into a hell dimension. Angel was badly wounded and Spike thinks he will be treated like a human, not a demon there. Spike kind of let Buffy have it - verbally,” he clarified hastily as he saw Giles frown. “Apparently he made it really clear that she hadn’t needed to shove Angel into the vortex, that just his blood would have done the trick.” He looked anxiously at Giles, hoping he wasn’t planning on killing Spike and was relieved when Giles just sighed heavily.

“Buffy does have rather a tendency towards overkill. Thank you, Xander. Under the circumstances, it was probably rather restrained of Spike to only verbally attack her. I suspect that was due to your influence more than anything.” Xander actually thought it was due to the fact that Spike had been barely able to stand but decided not to mention that since Giles was taking this so well. “She has undoubtedly gone somewhere where she can process what happened. Hopefully, she will return shortly.” 

Xander wasn’t sure if Giles really believed that or if he was just trying to convince himself but he made small comforting remarks about being sure that Buffy would return soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He left the hospital shortly afterwards. Giles was obviously tired and Xander promised to return the next day. Giles asked him to leave the books and Xander had carefully tucked them away out of sight in the bottom of the tiny closet in the room before leaving. 

Walking across the parking lot, he wished he’d said something to Giles to let him know he appreciated what Giles had been through but hadn’t had the courage to actually bring the subject up. Maybe when Giles’ hands were healed and his eyes no longer so haunted, Xander would find a way to tell him how much he respected Giles.

Hearing his name called, he looked up and saw Willow and Oz walking towards him and lifted a hand in greeting.

“We were just coming to see Giles,” Willow explained. “How is he?” 

“He’s sleeping,” Xander said, glancing back towards the hospital. “Sorry, bad timing on my part. You’ll need to give him a couple of hours before he’s up for more company.”

“No problem.” Oz looked less stressed and Xander hated to put him on edge again but he really needed to talk to Willow.

“Oz, would you mind giving me and Willow a few minutes alone?”

Oz looked at Xander’s stern expression and Willow’s slightly guilty one. “I’ll be over there,” he said, nodding towards a bench on the grounds. He gave Willow a quick kiss and walked off.

“What’s up?” Willow asked.

Xander came directly to the point. “What were you thinking, doing that spell?” He didn’t give Willow time to respond as he continued, “First off, you were in the hospital with a serious injury. You shouldn’t have been messing around with dangerous magics when you were hurt. Second, you almost got both Spike and Buffy killed by trying the spell.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Spike said Buffy was holding back, not using her full strength, and she kept interfering with Spike, getting in his way when he tried to kill Angel. That’s why Angel was able to wake Acathla, because Buffy was dinking around waiting for the damn spell to kick in.” Xander was freshly angry as he thought about how Buffy and Willow between them had nearly gotten Spike killed, not to mention almost letting Angel destroy the world. “Spike was really badly hurt because Buffy was holding back.” 

“Xander…”

He overrode Willow’s protest. “The spell worked, Willow.” He paused deliberately, watching as relief spread across her features.

“That’s great!” she began but he cut her off again.

“It worked after Acathla was woken,” he said brutally. “Buffy had just enough time to know the spell had worked before she had to kill Angel and shove him into the vortex to save the world.”

Willow’s face went white with shock and Xander was surprised to find he didn’t care how harsh he was being. He really wanted her to understand the consequences of her actions. He stared at her with hard, unforgiving eyes as she floundered for words. “Only guess what? Buffy didn’t actually kill him. She wounded him badly and then sent him to hell, soul and all. You remember, the demon dimension where he will suffer eternal torment.”

Willow said faintly: “It wasn’t supposed to happen that way.”

“I understand that but that’s how it ended up. You didn’t tell Spike and me what you were doing because you knew we wouldn’t agree. If we’d known, this wouldn’t have happened. 

Willow bowed her head for a second, then looked directly at Xander, her jaw set stubbornly. “It was the right thing to do, even if it ended badly. If it had worked in time, the fight would have been over and no-one would have been hurt. It’s what Buffy wanted.”

“See, that’s kind of my problem. You and Buffy decided and didn’t bother telling the people who were going to be fighting and maybe dying beside her. Well, congratulations. Spike was badly wounded, Angel and his restored soul are trapped in a hell dimension, and who knows where Buffy is. Worked out well, didn’t it?”

For a second, Xander thought Willow’s familiar green eyes had gone black. He blinked and looked again and it was just the same green eyes he’d known since childhood glaring at him. “Don’t pretend you care what happened to Angel, Xander Harris. You’re just mad because Spike got hurt.”

“You’re right. I am angry that Spike nearly died because of what you did. But I wouldn’t wish what’s probably happening to Angel right now on anyone.” 

Xander didn’t wait for her response, just turned and walked away without looking back. He didn’t know if it was himself or Willow who had changed so much that they didn’t see eye to eye on anything anymore. Probably both of them had changed beyond recognition from who they were just last year, he thought sadly. 

As he walked away from Willow, Xander once again felt like he’d lost her, that they wouldn’t ever be able to come back from this. Without conscious thought, he changed direction, needing to stop by Jesse’s grave before going back to the mansion.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The short visit to Jesse’s grave comforted Xander and he walked back to the mansion feeling less churned up than he had been. To his surprise, he found Spike in Angel’s study looking completely healed. Spike smiled at him. “All better, luv. How’s the Watcher?”

“He’ll be in the hospital another day or two,” Xander answered absently, still stunned to find Spike up and about.

“Told you humans take ridiculously long to heal up.”

“Are you really completely better?”

“Wouldn’t want to go another round with the Slayer just yet, but other than the odd death match, nothing to worry about.”

“Fortunately, that’s not going to happen just now. No one’s seen Buffy since the fight.”

Spike made a disgusted sound. “Typical. Can’t deal with the mess she made so she runs off and hides until you’re all worried and ready to comfort her.”

“Well,” Xander said, trying to be fair, “it’s got to have been hard, learning that you sent your lover to hell when you didn’t have to. I can sort of understand why she isn’t ready to face anyone yet.”

“Serves her right,” Spike muttered.

Xander changed the subject. “Is there enough blood? Do you need me to get more?”

Spike pulled him into his arms and kissed him hard. “Didn’t you offer some of yours?”

Xander shivered at the sound of Spike’s sexy voice and he kissed Spike back enthusiastically. “What’s it worth to you?” he asked teasingly.

Spike’s eyes darkened. “Worth a lot, pet. How ‘bout we go downstairs and negotiate.” 

After another long kiss, Xander asked breathlessly, “something wrong with the couch?”

Spike laughed and started pulling Xander down the hall behind him. “Come on, luv. Let’s christen the bed.”

Following Spike downstairs, Xander realized with a shock that the threat of Angelus that had been looming over them for so long was finally gone. He’d known Angelus was banished but there hadn’t really been time for the information to sink in and it suddenly hit him that they had survived and were safe. It felt like an unbearable weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He felt light, almost giddy with relief and like there was suddenly time enough in the world for anything. He knew it wasn’t true, Sunnydale was still the Hellmouth and stuff was bound to happen but for now there was nothing more serious than final exams facing him. Having dealt with the possibility of the world ending, exams just weren’t looking as threatening as they usually did. It was hard to get too worked up about the possibility of failing a class when you’d spent several days wondering if you were going to live through the weekend.

Well, the weekend was here and they were alive. In the face of that, everything to come seemed minor and easily dealt with: his promised talk with Oz, dealing with Buffy when she returned, his long-delayed promise to tell to Mr. Olsen about the Hellmouth, Mrs. McNally, Giles, Willow. None of it was as serious as what they’d already been through and Xander let himself forget about all of it for now in the rising tide of arousal.

They stumbled into the bedroom, kissing and frantically undoing each other’s clothes. Xander tried to be careful at first but Spike didn’t seem to be in any pain and he allowed himself to get swept up in the torrent of feeling as they tumbled down onto the bed. He started laughing helplessly as their bodies slid along the over-the-top red satin sheets that he’d been trying not to look at since he’d first seen Angelus’ bedroom. Spike stopped their downward slide before they hit the floor and they wiggled their way back onto the mattress, Xander still laughing and Spike softly growling as he yanked the sheets out of their way. 

His laughter died as Spike ripped his shirt off and began to run his tongue over Xander’s chest. His fingers clenched in Spike’s short hair and he arched his back, gasping at the sensation of Spike’s tongue toying with his nipples. Spike moved lower, pulling Xander’s pants down as he went, kissing and nibbling his way along Xander’s stomach and down to his groin. He cried out as Spike swallowed him whole, his tongue swirling around Xander’s erection and tasting every inch. 

Head thrown back, hands fisted in the sheets, Xander closed his eyes and lost himself in the sensations. Spike’s hands were holding his hips, stopping him from bucking up into Spike’s mouth and Xander heard himself making needy little sounds as he tried to get more of the amazing sensations. Spike chuckled and the slight vibration along the length of his penis nearly sent Xander over the edge. He was thrashing in Spike’s unrelenting grip, trying to get deeper into Spike’s mouth, feeling his balls drawing up, then moaned as Spike slid his mouth back up to the head and began sucking hard. Orgasm crashed over him, his semen pulsing into the cool mouth surrounding him and Spike continued sucking and swallowing, draining every drop, until Xander collapsed back onto the mattress, limp and unbelievably sated. 

~~~~~

Spike laved his tongue along the length of Xander’s cock, cleaning it as he withdrew, inhaling deeply to let the smells enhance the taste. His own erection was still hard and dripping and he slid up the length of Xander’s body, rubbing himself against the warm skin as he went.

Xander opened his eyes and smiled at him, the open, loving smile that Spike cherished. The one that told him without question that Xander had chosen him, above all others. Spike raised a hand and cupped Xander’s cheek, stroking gently with his thumb, not caring that his own return smile showed how completely besotted he was.

He was leaning forward to kiss his boy when a warm hand closed around his aching erection. His hips stuttered forward, so on edge he almost lost it at the simple touch and Xander’s smile became impish. 

“Didn’t think I was going to just roll over and go to sleep again, did you?”

He began sliding his hand along the length of Spike’s penis, pumping gently, moving faster as Spike began thrusting into the warm tunnel created by Xander’s fingers. 

Spike stared Xander in the eye, intense blue meeting warm brown and dropped a hand to stop Xander. “Wait, luv. Want all of you.”

Xander didn’t stop what he was doing. “What, vampire stamina not up to twice in one night?” he asked provokingly. His eyes were shining with mischief and he shifted his grip, swirling his thumb over the head of Spike’s erection, rubbing over the slit and spreading the dripping pre-cum around the head. 

Spike moaned at the increased sensation and forgot all about waiting. Xander began pumping him, hard, and Spike pushed himself into Xander’s fist and came, his own release spurting over Xander’s fingers and covering them both. 

Relaxing back down, Spike watched Xander bring his hand to his mouth and tentatively lick at Spike’s semen, still dripping from his fingers. Spike’s eyes dilated at the sight of Xander’s tongue taking little cat licks, tasting the fluid, an intent, curious look on his face. He found himself hardening again at the sight of his boy tasting his cum and longed to feel Xander’s mouth on his cock.

The mere thought of Xander giving him a blow job had him fully erect and he reached over to kiss Xander, tasting himself in Xander’s mouth. He pushed Xander back into the mattress, leaning over him and exploring every inch of his mouth, Xander’s tongue dueling with his as Spike sought out every last trace of his own semen.

He slid a hand down and met Xander’s own renewing interest, trailing his fingers along the length of the rapidly hardening penis, teasing and tracing erotic patterns along the soft flesh as he encouraged it back to fully erect. 

Xander broke their kiss, pulling back to look Spike directly in the eye. “I want it too, Spike.” He spread his legs in unmistakable invitation and Spike closed his eyes, struggling for control, to not just pounce and take what he had been wanting for so long.

He kissed Xander again and reached for the lotion he’d left on the bedside table earlier. He’d searched the house thoroughly during the afternoon and hadn’t found any lube. The bottle of lotion had been under the sink in one of the bathrooms, obviously left by the human occupants of the house, pre-Angelus, and he’d seized it gratefully. 

Coating his fingers thoroughly, he continued kissing Xander as he lubed himself, lavishly spreading the lotion over his cock, enjoying the slippery friction he was creating. Xander’s hands wandered over his back and chest, rubbing his thumbs over Spike’s nipples and Spike pushed into his hands, beginning to kiss his way down Xander’s neck, lingering at his claim mark, his tongue darting over the mark again and again.

Xander was eagerly rubbing his erection against Spike now and Spike rolled further on top of Xander as he reached for the lotion again, getting a fresh batch on his hands and making sure his fingers were thoroughly coated. He bit gently at Xander’s nipples then licked over them with slow, broad strokes of his tongue. He slid his lubed fingers between Xander’s cheeks and began trailing them along the crack, gradually pushing further until his finger was circling teasingly around the puckered opening.

Xander tugged at Spike’s hair and he reluctantly lifted his head, pulling his finger away from Xander’s opening. Xander was breathing hard and he stared at Spike. The trust shining in the depths of his brown eyes stunned Spike and for a moment, he just stared back, until Xander pulled his head down for a kiss.

Spike returned to teasing at the opening, rubbing his finger over and around the entrance before dipping inside for the first time. Xander took a deep breath but remained relaxed, and Spike watched him carefully as he gently rocked one finger further inside. Xander gaze was turned inward, his whole being concentrated on the feeling of Spike gradually stretching his opening. Reassured, Spike slid the finger all the way inside, relishing the way Xander shivered and drew in a long, shaky breath.

Spike began circling his finger, working on gently stretching the opening. He was so aroused watching his finger moving inside his boy that he could barely control hisself, his cock achingly erect as he rubbed it against Xander’s thigh. He laughed quietly at the disappointed sound as he withdrew his finger and hurriedly dripped more lotion onto his hand before returning to his goal with two fingers.

The opening was tight and Spike had to work it a bit to get both fingers fully seated. Swirling them around the tight passage Spike sought and found the prostate gland. Pressing against it with both fingers, he was rewarded as Xander gasped and bucked at the sensation, his eyes dark with arousal.

Spike couldn’t wait any longer. Hurriedly, he pulled his fingers out and settled between Xander’s legs. Holding Xander’s head in both hands, his fingers buried in the dark tumble of Xander’s hair, he locked eyes with Xander as he nudged his penis against the opening. 

“Yes,” Xander encouraged him in a strangled plea, straining his hips up. Almost shaking with the effort of holding back when he just wanted to slam inside and claim Xander fully, Spike pushed inside with agonizing slowness, feeling the tight channel yield grudgingly to his girth. Xander clung to Spike’s shoulders, fingers digging into the smooth flesh as Spike gradually filled him, unlike anything he’d ever known before.

Shifting to vampire face, Spike tore his eyes from Xander’s for the first time and, just as he thrust home the final inch, he buried his fangs into his claim mark, renewing it and claiming Xander in every possible way.

Xander was panting, open-mouthed gasps, his breath puffing over Spike’s ear as Spike lost himself in the taste, scent and feeling of his boy, blood filling his mouth, his erection throbbing inside the tight channel that gripped him with silken heat. Getting a hold of himself, Spike reluctantly withdrew his fangs before he took too much, licking at the small wounds and lifted his head, meeting Xander’s dazed eyes.

“Easy, luv,” he crooned and began an almost imperceptible thrusting motion, withdrawing only a tiny amount before rocking forward again. As Xander adjusted to the motion, hips instinctively beginning to move with Spike’s, Spike increased the depth of his thrusts gradually, finding the prostate and adjusting the angle until he was hitting it with every stroke. Spike arched his back, trying to go deeper and increasing the pressure against Xander’s erection as it slid between their bodies.

His own orgasm was building rapidly and he could feel the tension in Xander’s whole body as he picked up the pace, pulling nearly all the way out on each stroke before pushing back in fully. Xander called out his name as he exploded into orgasm, his cum spurting between their bodies and Spike managed only one more thrust before he too came hard as the muscles along the slick channel tightened in response to Xander’s orgasm, gripping Spike hard and pulling his own orgasm out of him.

Xander’s breathing slowly evened out, as their entwined bodies gradually came down from the orgasmic high. Knowing Xander would be sore, Spike reluctantly pulled out of him, even though he wanted nothing more than to stay buried inside Xander all night. He felt Xander’s lips moving gently against his neck, small, kisses peppering along the major vein and shivered at the erotic sensation, wondering how Xander knew that the neck was a major hot spot for vampires. He felt Xander’s lips turn up against his skin. 

“That was amazing. Why didn’t we start doing this weeks ago?”

Spike laughed, rolling them towards the edge of the bed out of the wet spot and settling against the pillows with Xander cradled in his arms. Xander snuggled into his chest, a warm, sweaty weight and Spike simply breathed in the mingled odors of sweat and sex that overwhelmed all traces of Angelus’ scent. Absently, stroking Xander’s hair, he thought briefly of everything that had to be done now that he was healed but pushed them aside for the time being. For now, it was enough to just hold his boy, and savor the fact that he was finally truly Spike’s. Dropping a kiss on the top of Xander’s head, he murmured quietly to his already drowsing partner:

“What d’you say, pet, want to run the hellmouth with me?”

**Author's Note:**

> There are 4 stories to this series. The remaining stories are written and will be posted over the next week or so.


End file.
